Strathmore cut her off. 'Susan, it's crystal clear. Tankado engraved the Digital Fortress pass-key on his ring. Gold is durable. Whether he's sleeping, showering, eating-the pass-key would always be with him, ready at a moment's notice for instant publication.'
Susan looked dubious. 'On his finger? In the open like that?'
'Why not? Spain isn't exactly the encryption capital of the world. Nobody would have any idea what the letters meant. Besides, if the key is a standard sixty-four-bit-even in broad daylight, nobody could possibly read and memorize all sixty-four characters.'
Susan looked perplexed. 'And Tankado gave this ring to a total stranger moments before he died? Why?'
Strathmore's gaze narrowed. 'Why do you think?'
It took Susan only a moment before it clicked. Her eyes widened.
Strathmore nodded. 'Tankado was trying to get rid of it. He thought we'd killed him. He felt himself dying and logically assumed we were responsible. The timing was too coincidental. He figured we'd gotten to him, poison or something, a slow-acting cardiac arrestor. He knew the only way we'd dare kill him is if we'd found North Dakota.'
Susan felt a chill. 'Of course,' she whispered. 'Tankado thought that we neutralized his insurance policy so we could remove him too.'
It was all coming clear to Susan. The timing of the heart attack was so fortunate for the NSA that Tankado had assumed the NSA was responsible. His final instinct was revenge. Ensei gave away his ring as a last-ditch effort to publish the pass-key. Now, incredibly, some unsuspecting Canadian tourist held the key to the most powerful encryption algorithm in history.
Susan sucked in a deep breath and asked the inevitable question. 'So where is the Canadian now?'
Strathmore frowned. 'That's the problem.'
'The officer doesn't know where he is?'
'No. The Canadian's story was so absurd that the officer figured he was either in shock or senile. So he put the old guy on the back of his motorcycle to take him back to his hotel. But the Canadian didn't know enough to hang on; he fell off before they'd gone three feet-cracked his head and broke his wrist.'
'What!' Susan choked.
'The officer wanted to take him to a hospital, but the Canadian was furious-said he'd walk back to Canada before he'd get on the motorcycle again. So all the officer could do was walk him to a small public clinic near the park. He left him there to get checked out.'
Susan frowned. 'I assume there's no need to ask where David is headed.'
Chapter 17
David Becker stepped out onto the scorching tile concourse of Plaza de Espana. Before him, El Ayunta miento- the ancient city council building-rose from the trees on a three-acre bed of blue and white azulejo tiles. Its Arabic spires and carved facade gave the impression it had been intended more as a palace than a public office. Despite its history of military coups, fires, and public hangings, most tourists visited because the local brochures plugged it as the English military headquarters in the film Lawrence of Arabia. It had been far cheaper for Columbia Pictures to film in Spain than in Egypt, and the Moorish influence on Seville's architecture was enough to convince moviegoers they were looking at Cairo.
Becker reset his Seiko for local time: 9:10 p.m.-still afternoon by local standards; a proper Spaniard never ate dinner before sunset, and the lazy Andalusian sun seldom surrendered the skies before ten.
Even in the early-evening heat, Becker found himself walking across the park at a brisk clip. Strathmore's tone had sounded a lot more urgent this time than it had that morning. His new orders left no room for misinterpretation: Find the Canadian, get the ring. Do whatever is necessary, just get that ring.
Becker wondered what could possibly be so important about a ring with lettering all over it. Strathmore hadn't offered, and Becker hadn't asked. NSA, he thought. Never Say Anything.
On the other side of Avenida Isabela Catolica, the clinic was clearly visible-the universal symbol of a red cross in a white circle painted on the roof. The Guardia officer had dropped the Canadian off hours ago. Broken wrist, bumped head-no doubt the patient had been treated and discharged by now. Becker just hoped the clinic had discharge information-a local hotel or phone number where the man could be reached. With a little luck, Becker figured he could find the Canadian, get the ring, and be on his way home without any more complications.
Strathmore had told Becker, 'Use the ten thousand cash to buy the ring if you have to. I'll reimburse you.'
'That's not necessary,' Becker had replied. He'd intended to return the money anyway. He hadn't gone to Spain for money, he'd gone for Susan. Commander Trevor Strathmore was Susan's mentor and guardian. Susan owed him a lot; a one-day errand was the least Becker could do.
Unfortunately, things this morning hadn't gone quite as Becker had planned. He'd hoped to call Susan from the plane and explain everything. He considered having the pilot radio Strathmore so he could pass along a message but was hesitant to involve the deputy director in his romantic problems.
Three times Becker had tried to call Susan himself-first from a defunct cellular on board the jet, next from a pay phone at the airport, then again from the morgue. Susan was not in. David wondered where she could be. He'd gotten her answering machine but had not left a message; what he wanted to say was not a message for an answering machine.
As he approached the road, he spotted a phone booth near the park entrance. He jogged over, snatched up the receiver, and used his phone card to place the call. There was a long pause as the number connected. Finally it began to ring.
Come on. Be there.
After five rings the call connected.
'Hi. This is Susan Fletcher. Sorry I'm not in right now, but if you leave your name…'
Becker listened to the message. Where is she? By now Susan would be panicked. He wondered if maybe she'd gone to Stone Manor without him. There was a beep.
'Hi. It's David.' He paused, unsure what to say. One of the things he hated about answering machines was that if you stopped to think, they cut you off. 'Sorry I didn't call,' he blurted just in time. He wondered if he should tell her what was going on. He thought better of it. 'Call Commander Strathmore. He'll explain everything.' Becker's heart was pounding. This is absurd, he thought. 'I love you,' he added quickly and hung up.
Becker waited for some traffic to pass on Avenida Borbolla. He thought about how Susan undoubtedly would have assumed the worst; it was unlike him not to call when he'd promised to.
Becker stepped out onto the four-lane boulevard. 'In and out,' he whispered to himself. 'In and out.' He was too preoccupied to see the man in wire-rim glasses watching from across the street.
Chapter 18
Standing before the huge plate-glass window in his Tokyo skyrise, Numataka took a long pull on his cigar and smiled to himself. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. He had spoken to the American again, and if all was going according to the timetable, Ensei Tankado had been eliminated by now, and his copy of the pass-key had been confiscated.
It was ironic, Numataka thought, that he himself would end up with Ensei Tankado's pass-key. Tokugen Numataka had met Tankado once many years ago. The young programmer had come to Numatech Corp. fresh out of college, searching for a job. Numataka had denied him. There was no question that Tankado was brilliant, but at the time there were other considerations. Although Japan was changing, Numataka had been trained in the old school; he lived by the code of menboko-honor and face. Imperfection was not to be tolerated. If he hired a cripple, he would bring shame on his company. He had disposed of Tankado's resume without a glance.
Numataka checked his watch again. The American, North Dakota, should have called by now. Numataka felt a tinge of nervousness. He hoped nothing was wrong.
If the pass-keys were as good as promised, they would unlock the most sought-after product of the computer age-a totally invulnerable digital encryption algorithm. Numataka could embed the algorithm in tamper-proof, spray-sealed VSLI chips and mass market them to world computer manufacturers, governments, industries, and
