- •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 87
The Vespa lurched into the slow lane of the Carretera de Huelva. It was almost dawn, but there was plenty of traffic‑young Sevillians returning from their all‑night beach verbenas. A van of teenagers laid on its horn and flew by. Becker’s motorcycle felt like a toy out there on the freeway.
A quarter of a mile back, a demolished taxi swerved out onto the freeway in a shower of sparks. As it accelerated, it sideswiped a Peugeot 504 and sent it careening onto the grassy median.
Becker passed a freeway marker: SEVILLA CENTRO‑2 KM. If he could just reach the cover of downtown, he knew he might have a chance. His speedometer read 60 kilometers per hour. Two minutes to the exit. He knew he didn’t have that long. Somewhere behind him, the taxi was gaining. Becker gazed out at the nearing lights of downtown Seville and prayed he would reach them alive.
He was only halfway to the exit when the sound of scraping metal loomed up behind him. He hunched on his bike, wrenching the throttle as far as it would go. There was a muffled gunshot, and a bullet sailed by. Becker cut left, weaving back and forth across the lanes in hopes of buying more time. It was no use. The exit ramp was still three hundred yards when the taxi roared to within a few car lengths behind him. Becker knew that in a matter of seconds he would be either shot or run down. He scanned ahead for any possible escape, but the highway was bounded on both sides by steep gravel slopes. Another shot rang out. Becker made his decision.
In a scream of rubber and sparks, he leaned violently to his right and swerved off the road. The bike’s tires hit the bottom of the embankment. Becker strained to keep his balance as the Vespa threw up a cloud of gravel and began fish‑tailing its way up the slope. The wheels spun wildly, clawing at the loose earth. The little engine whimpered pathetically as it tried to dig in. Becker urged it on, hoping it wouldn’t stall. He didn’t dare look behind him, certain at any moment the taxi would be skidding to a stop, bullets flying.
The bullets never came.
Becker’s bike broke over the crest of the hill, and he saw it‑the centro. The downtown lights spread out before him like a star‑filled sky. He gunned his way through some underbrush and out over the curb. His Vespa suddenly felt faster. The Avenue Luis Montoto seemed to race beneath his tires. The soccer stadium zipped past on the left. He was in the clear.
It was then that Becker heard the familiar screech of metal on concrete. He looked up. A hundred yards ahead of him, the taxi came roaring up the exit ramp. It skidded out onto Luis Montoto and accelerated directly toward him.
Becker knew he should have felt a surge of panic. But he did not. He knew exactly where he was going. He swerved left on Menendez Pelayo and opened the throttle. The bike lurched across a small park and into the cobblestoned corridor of Mateus Gago‑the narrow one‑way street that led to the portal of Barrio Santa Cruz.
Just a little farther, he thought.
The taxi followed, thundering closer. It trailed Becker through the gateway of Santa Cruz, ripping off its side mirror on the narrow archway. Becker knew he had won. Santa Cruz was the oldest section of Seville. It had no roads between the buildings, only mazes of narrow walkways built in Roman times. They were only wide enough for pedestrians and the occasional Moped. Becker had once been lost for hours in the narrow caverns.
As Becker accelerated down the final stretch of Mateus Gago, Seville’s eleventh‑century Gothic cathedral rose like a mountain before him. Directly beside it, the Giralda tower shot 419 feet skyward into the breaking dawn. This was Santa Cruz, home to the second largest cathedral in the world as well as Seville’s oldest, most pious Catholic families.
Becker sped across the stone square. There was a single shot, but it was too late. Becker and his motorcycle disappeared down a tiny passageway‑Callita de la Virgen.