had been asked to locate the individual. Although the NSA had the clout to demand the remailing company reveal the user's identity, it opted for a more subtle method-a 'tracer.'
Susan had created, in effect, a directional beacon disguised as a piece of E-mail. She could send it to the user's phony address, and the remailing company, performing the duty for which it had been contracted, would forward it to the user's real address. Once there, the program would record its Internet location and send word back to the NSA. Then the program would disintegrate without a trace. From that day on, as far as the NSA was concerned, anonymous remailers were nothing more than a minor annoyance.
'Can you find him?' Strathmore asked.
'Sure. Why did you wait so long to call me?'
'Actually'-he frowned-'I hadn't planned on calling you at all. I didn't want anyone else in the loop. I tried to send a copy of your tracer myself, but you wrote the damn thing in one of those new hybrid languages; I couldn't get it to work. It kept returning nonsensical data. I finally had to bite the bullet and bring you in.'
Susan chuckled. Strathmore was a brilliant cryptographic programmer, but his repertoire was limited primarily to algorithmic work; the nuts and bolts of less lofty 'secular' programming often escaped him. What was more, Susan had written her tracer in a new, crossbreed programming language called LIMBO; it was understandable that Strathmore had encountered problems. 'I'll take care of it.' She smiled, turning to leave. 'I'll be at my terminal.'
'Any idea on a time frame?'
Susan paused. 'Well… it depends on how efficiently ARA forwards their mail. If he's here in the States and uses something like AOL or CompuServe, I'll snoop his credit card and get a billing address within the hour. If he's with a university or corporation, it'll take a little longer.' She smiled uneasily. 'After that, the rest is up to you.'
Susan knew that 'the rest' would be an NSA strike team, cutting power to the guy's house and crashing through his windows with stun guns. The team would probably think it was on a drug bust. Strathmore would undoubtedly stride through the rubble himself and locate the sixty-four-character pass-key. Then he would destroy it. Digital Fortress would languish forever on the Internet, locked for all eternity.
'Send the tracer carefully,' Strathmore urged. 'If North Dakota sees we're onto him, he'll panic, and I'll never get a team there before he disappears with the key.'
'Hit and run,' she assured. 'The moment this thing finds his account, it'll dissolve. He'll never know we were there.'
The commander nodded tiredly. 'Thanks.'
Susan gave him a soft smile. She was always amazed how even in the face of disaster Strathmore could muster a quiet calm. She was convinced it was this ability that had defined his career and lifted him to the upper echelons of power.
As Susan headed for the door, she took a long look down at TRANSLTR. The existence of an unbreakable algorithm was a concept she was still struggling to grasp. She prayed they'd find North Dakota in time.
'Make it quick,' Strathmore called, 'and you'll be in the Smoky Mountains by nightfall.'
Susan froze in her tracks. She knew she had never mentioned her trip to Strathmore. She wheeled. Is the NSA tapping my phone?
Strathmore smiled guiltily. 'David told me about your trip this morning. He said you'd be pretty ticked about postponing it.'
Susan was lost. 'You talked to David this morning?'
'Of course.' Strathmore seemed puzzled by Susan's reaction. 'I had to brief him.'
'Brief him?' she demanded. 'For what?'
'For his trip. I sent David to Spain.'
Chapter 11
Spain. I sent David to Spain. The commander's words stung.
'David's in Spain?' Susan was incredulous. 'You sent him to Spain?' Her tone turned angry. 'Why?'
Strathmore looked dumbfounded. He was apparently not accustomed to being yelled at, even by his head cryptographer. He gave Susan a confused look. She was flexed like a mother tiger defending her cub.
'Susan,' he said. 'You spoke to him, didn't you? David did explain?'
She was too shocked to speak. Spain? That's why David postponed our Stone Manor trip?
'I sent a car for him this morning. He said he was going to call you before he left. I'm sorry. I thought-'
'Why would you send David to Spain?'
Strathmore paused and gave her an obvious look. 'To get the other pass-key.'
'What other pass-key?'
'Tankado's copy.'
Susan was lost. 'What are you talking about?'
Strathmore sighed. 'Tankado surely would have had a copy of the pass-key on him when he died. I sure as hell didn't want it floating around the Seville morgue.'
'So you sent David Becker?' Susan was beyond shock. Nothing was making sense. 'David doesn't even work for you!'
Strathmore looked startled. No one ever spoke to the deputy director of the NSA that way. 'Susan,' he said, keeping his cool, 'that's the point. I needed-'
The tiger lashed out. 'You've got twenty thousand employees at your command! What gives you the right to send my fiance?'
'I needed a civilian courier, someone totally removed from government. If I went through regular channels and someone caught wind-'
'And David Becker is the only civilian you know?'
'No! David Becker is not the only civilian I know! But at six this morning, things were happening quickly! David speaks the language, he's smart, I trust him, and I thought I'd do him a favor!'
'A favor?' Susan sputtered. 'Sending him to Spain is a favor?'
'Yes! I'm paying him ten thousand for one day's work. He'll pick up Tankado's belongings, and he'll fly home. That's a favor!'
Susan fell silent. She understood. It was all about money.
Her thoughts wheeled back five months to the night the president of Georgetown University had offered David a promotion to the language department chair. The president had warned him that his teaching hours would be cut back and that there would be increased paperwork, but there was also a substantial raise in salary. Susan had wanted to cry out David, don't do it! You'll be miserable. We have plenty of money-who cares which one of us earns it? But it was not her place. In the end, she stood by his decision to accept. As they fell asleep that night, Susan tried to be happy for him, but something inside kept telling her it would be a disaster. She'd been right-but she'd never counted on being so right.
'You paid him ten thousand dollars?' she demanded. 'That's a dirty trick!'
Strathmore was fuming now. 'Trick? It wasn't any goddamn trick! I didn't even tell him about the money. I asked him as a personal favor. He agreed to go.'
'Of course he agreed! You're my boss! You're the deputy director of the NSA! He couldn't say no!'
'You're right,' Strathmore snapped. 'Which is why I called him. I didn't have the luxury of-'
'Does the director know you sent a civilian?'
'Susan,' Strathmore said, his patience obviously wearing thin, 'the director is not involved. He knows nothing about this.'
Susan stared at Strathmore in disbelief. It was as if she no longer knew the man she was talking to. He had sent her fiance-a teacher-on an NSA mission and then failed to notify the director about the biggest crisis in the history of the organization.
'Leland Fontaine hasn't been notified?'
Strathmore had reached the end of his rope. He exploded. 'Susan, now listen here! I called you in here because I need an ally, not an inquiry! I've had one hell of morning. I downloaded Tankado's file last night and sat here by the output printer for hours praying TRANSLTR could break it. At dawn I swallowed my pride and dialed the director-and let me tell you, that was a conversation I was really looking forward to. Good morning, sir. I'm
