Digital Fortress

"Well, your instincts are wrong, Ms. Milken! For once, they're wrong!"

Midge stood fast. "But, sir! Commander Strathmore bypassed Gauntlet!"

Fontaine strode toward her, barely controlling his anger. "That is his prerogative! I pay you to watch analysts and service employees-not spy on the deputy director! If it weren't for him we'd still be breaking codes with pencil and paper! Now leave me!" He turned to Brinkerhoff, who stood in the doorway colorless and trembling. "Both of you."

"With all due respect, sir," Midge said. "I'd like to recommend we send a Sys-Sec team to Crypto just to ensure-"

"We will do no such thing!"

After a tense beat, Midge nodded. "Very well. Goodnight." She turned and left. As she passed, Brinkerhoff could see in her eyes that she had no intention of letting this rest-not until her intuition was satisfied.

Brinkerhoff gazed across the room at his boss, massive and seething behind his desk. This was not the director he knew. The director he knew was a stickler for detail, for neatly tied packages. He always encouraged his staff to examine and clarify any inconsistencies in daily procedure, no matter how minute. And yet here he was, asking them to turn their backs on a very bizarre series of coincidences.

The director was obviously hiding something, but Brinkerhoff was paid to assist, not to question. Fontaine had proven over and over that he had everyone's best interests at heart; if assisting him now meant turning a blind eye, then so be it. Unfortunately, Midge was paid to question, and Brinkerhoff feared she was headed for Crypto to do just that.

Time to get out the resumes, Brinkerhoff thought as he turned to the door.

"Chad!" Fontaine barked, from behind him. Fontaine had seen the look in Midge's eyes when she left. "Don't let her out of this suite."

Brinkerhoff nodded and hustled after Midge.

***

Fontaine sighed and put his head in his hands. His sable eyes were heavy. It had been a long, unexpected trip home. The past month had been one of great anticipation for Leland Fontaine. There were things happening right now at the NSA that would change history, and ironically, Director Fontaine had found out about them only by chance.

Three months ago, Fontaine had gotten news that Commander Strathmore's wife was leaving him. He'd also heard reports that Strathmore was working absurd hours and seemed about to crack under the pressure. Despite differences of opinion with Strathmore on many issues, Fontaine had always held his deputy director in the highest esteem; Strathmore was a brilliant man, maybe the best the NSA had. At the same time, ever since the Skipjack fiasco, Strathmore had been under tremendous stress. It made Fontaine uneasy; the commander held a lot of keys around the NSA-and Fontaine had an agency to protect.

Fontaine needed someone to keep tabs on the wavering Strathmore and make sure he was 100 percent-but it was not that simple. Strathmore was a proud and powerful man; Fontaine needed a way to check up on the commander without undermining his confidence or authority.

Fontaine decided, out of respect for Strathmore, to do the job himself. He had an invisible tap installed on Commander Strathmore's Crypto account-his E-mail, his interoffice correspondence, his brainstorms, all of it. If Strathmore was going to crack, the director would see warning signs in his work. But instead of signs of a breakdown, Fontaine uncovered the ground work for one of the most incredible intelligence schemes he'd ever encountered. It was no wonder Strathmore was busting his ass; if he could pull this plan off, it would make up for the Skipjack fiasco a hundred times over.

Fontaine had concluded Strathmore was fine, working at 110 percent-as sly, smart, and patriotic as ever. The best thing the director could do would be to stand clear and watch the commander work his magic. Strathmore had devised a plan… a plan Fontaine had no intention of interrupting.

Chapter 75

Strathmore fingered the Berretta in his lap. Even with the rage boiling in his blood, he was programmed to think clearly. The fact that Greg Hale had dared lay a finger on Susan Fletcher sickened him, but the fact that it was his own fault made him even sicker; Susan going into Node 3 had been his idea. Strathmore knew enough to compartmentalize his emotion-it could in no way affect his handling of Digital Fortress. He was the deputy director of the National Security Agency. And today his job was more critical than it had ever been.

Strathmore slowed his breathing. "Susan." His voice was efficient and unclouded. "Did you delete Hale's E-mail?"

"No," she said, confused.

"Do you have the pass-key?"

She shook her head.