Chapter 9 Chapter 9

Brinkerhoff followed Mitch to her office.She sat down and tapped the keyboard of "Big Brother". "You want to spy on the Cryptography Department?" "I'd like to be able to spy, but the Cryptography Department won't allow it. It's Strathmore's order. All I can get is approximate statistics and some basic TRANSLTR material. Strathmore wants to Get out completely on your own, but Fontaine insists on getting the basics." Mickey clicked a few more keys. "I'm pulling up the Strathmore elevator log." She studied the monitor for a moment, then tapped her knuckles on the table. "Here he is. Look at this. He came early yesterday morning, and his elevator hasn't been moved since. I also show here that he didn't use the magnetic card on the gate. So he must be here."

Brinkerhoff let out a sigh of relief. "If Strathmore is here, then everything will be fine, right?" Mitch thought for a moment, then finally said, "Maybe. We should call him and check again." "Mitch, he's the Deputy Commissioner. I'm sure he's got the situation under control. Let's stop guessing—" "We're just doing our job. There's something wrong with our data and we should investigate." "What?" Mitch snapped, suspicious. "Strathmore says our data is wrong?" Brinkerhoff nodded and hung up the phone. "He assured me that TRANSLTR was working fine. And that it was cracking a code every six minutes as we spoke. He thanked me for my oversight."

"He's lying," Mickey snapped. "I've been in charge of the Cryptography Department statistics for two years. They never miss." "There's a first time for everything," he said casually. "That's not funny, Chad! The Deputy Chief just blatantly lied to the Chief's office. I want to know why!" Brinkerhoff suddenly felt that it would have been better if he hadn't called her back.The call to Strathmore pissed her off. "Mitch, it's probably our data that's wrong. I mean, think about it—a file that can trap TRANSLTR for eighteen hours? That's unheard of."

She gave him a haughty look and threw the report on the counter. "I trust the data. Something must have happened," she said solemnly. "I want to find out." Baker looked down at the sea of ​​red, white, and blue hairdos with dismay. "How did you get your hair like that?" Baker muttered, pointing to the others. "Judas taboo." The boy said lightly.Monk Baker Zhang Er couldn't figure it out. The punk spat down the aisle, evidently in disgust at Baker's ignorance. "Greatest punker since Syd Weisers. He cracked his head off here a year ago today. That's the hairstyle Taboo wore when he retired, and every fan who loves him wears it today Hair dyed red, white and blue."

Baker didn't speak for a long while.Every fan dyed their hair red, white and blue today. Baker reached for the rope on the wall to call the driver.Time to get off.no response. "These devices were cut off in the 27 bus." Baker turned around and said, "You mean, I can't get out of the car?" The boy smiled and said, "Until the last stop." "Where are we going?" "You mean you don't know?" The boy started laughing wildly. "Oh shit. You're gonna love it there." Greg Hale stands behind the one-way glass at outlet three.He watched as Phil Chattrukian carefully climbed down the ladder leading to the lower level.

"What a feat," Hale muttered.He knew where Chartrukian was going.If he thinks the computer is infected with a virus, then urgent manual shutdown of TRANSLTR is justified.Unfortunately, within ten minutes or so, the Cryptography Department was bound to be full of people from System Security.It was beyond Hale's responsibility for Systems Security to investigate the Cryptography Division.Hale left Branch Three and headed for the trapdoor.Be sure to stop Chartrukian. Now, Jebba is resting in the NSA's all-night restaurant.He opened his mouth to eat his third pie when his phone rang.

"Please tell me," he said, taking a full bite. "Jeba," said a woman's voice softly. "I'm Mickey." "Queen of Data!" said the big man excitedly.He always had a soft spot for Mitch Milken. "Nice to find you," Mitch said. "My Cryptography Department stats are showing something weird. I hope you can enlighten me." "What data did you get?" "I have a report that TRANSLTR has been running the same file for eighteen hours and still hasn't cracked it." "What report is this?" "Production report. For basic cost analysis." Mitch quickly explained what she and Brinkerhoff had discovered.

"Did you call Strathmore?" "Yes. He said everything was fine in the Cryptography Department, that TRANSLTR was running at full speed, and that our data was wrong." A frown frowned on Jebba's bulging forehead. "Then what's the problem? Your report must be wrong." "You don't think your report was wrong?" "Yes." "Then you think Strathmore is lying?" "That's not what I meant," Mitch said tactfully, knowing he didn't have hard evidence. "I mean my stats have never been wrong in the past. I thought you'd have an idea."

"Well," said Jerba, "I hate to tell you that, but your data is wrong. Only a virus can lock TRANSLTR for eighteen hours." "Well," she asked boldly, "Strathmore has been in the Codebreaking Department for a good thirty-six hours. Is it possible that he is killing viruses?" "Strathmore has no idea what a virus is. TRANSLTR is everything to him, and if he sees any danger, he'll make sure to let me know. Besides, there's no way TRANSLTR has a virus." Gauntlet ' has the best set of filters I've ever programmed. No virus can break through that line of defense."

After a long silence, Mickey sighed, "Is there any other explanation?" Jebba let out a piercing laugh. "Mitch...listen. 'Flying Fish' sucks. Strathmore screwed it up. But life goes on—it's over." There was a long silence on the line, and Jebba knew I have gone too far. "I'm sorry, Mitch. I know that mess put you under a lot of pressure. Strathmore was wrong. I know you had a problem with him." "It has nothing to do with 'Flying Fish'," she said firmly. Yes, of course, Jerba thought. "Look, Mitch, I don't have any personal feelings for Strathmore. I mean, Strathmore loves TRANSLTR more than he loves his damn wife .If there is any problem, he will definitely call me."

Mickey didn't speak for a long time.Finally she let out a forced breath and said, "So you mean my data is wrong?" "Listen, Mitch. Write me a working program. I'll check your machines on Monday." The "Wizard Club" is located in the suburbs and is the terminus of the No. 27 bus.There are red, white and blue hair styles everywhere outside the car. Baker sighed, thinking about what to do next.He glanced at the crowd and shrugged.Where else could she be on a Saturday night? After entering the "Wizard Club", Baker immediately felt that he was in a sea of ​​restless people.His eyes are full of heads with red, white and blue hair.People's bodies were so close together that he couldn't see what they were wearing.He didn't see even a shadow of the Union Jack. Someone nearby started vomiting.It's disgusting.Baker grunted and left the ballroom down the corridor. A corridor leads to an open-air courtyard with scattered tables and chairs.Baker came out and sat down on the chair at the nearest empty table.Just a few minutes of sleep, he thought. Five miles away, the man with the wire-rimmed glasses sat in the back of a Fiat taxi. "Wizard," he grunted. The driver nodded and looked at the strange new passenger in the rearview mirror. "Wizards," he muttered, "there's some really weird people out there every night." Susan Fletcher paced anxiously in the Cryptography bathroom.Her heart was beating wildly.Hale is North Dakota! Susan couldn't wait.it's time.She was going quickly to Strathmore's office.Not too soon, of course—she couldn't make Halle think she knew who he really was.When she was about to pull the door, she suddenly heard something.It was the voices of several men. It sounded like it was coming from a narrow passage in the sublevel.One of them had a high-pitched, angry voice.Sounds like Phil Chartrukian. "You don't believe me?" There was a heated argument. "We've got the virus!" Then there was another scream. "We're going to call Jebba!" Then there was the sound of fighting. "let me go!" The sound that followed was hardly human.It was a howl of terror, like a tortured animal about to die.Then there was a dead silence. At that moment, the light in the bathroom went out.Susan Fletcher found darkness all around. "You're sitting in my seat, asshole." Baker lifted his head from his arms.A small boy glared down at him.His scalp is half red, half purple. Baker wasn't in the mood for a fight. "I'm sorry," Baker said, turning to leave. The punk blocked his way. "I warn you! This is my desk! I come here every night." Baker couldn't bear it anymore, he lifted him up and slammed him onto the table. The boy's face turned pale immediately. Baker pressed him on the table for a while, then let go.He suddenly remembered what the boy said just now.I come here every night. "Sorry," Baker said, "I don't know your name yet?" "Two-color." He gritted his teeth and said. "A catchy name. Did you come up with it yourself?" "What the hell do you want?" "I'm looking for a girl." "I can help you, but for a fee." "Okay. I think the girl I'm looking for might be here too. She has red, white and blue hair, and she's wearing a T-shirt with the Union Jack on it and a skull earring in one ear." A look of deja vu flitted across Bicolor's face.Baker felt hopeful when he saw it.But the two-color expression quickly became serious. "She's Eduardo's woman, you bastard! Be careful! If you touch a hair of her, he'll kill you!" In order to intercept intelligence from the network, the National Security Agency of the United States spent huge sums of money to build a machine that can crack all passwords --- TRANSLTR.This supercomputer has thwarted the plots of countless terrorists, but it can also intercept ordinary people's emails.Is the world devoid of privacy and secrets?Please follow Dan Brown, the king of American suspense novels, into the puzzle of "digital castle" and experience a thrilling high-tech confrontation in the information age—— Mitch Milken stared outside while sipping water, and his eyes fell on the location of the Code Deciphering Department.There was nothing down there, just pitch black.The Cryptography Department is gone! Susan Fletcher touched the wall and walked towards the exit. The only light in the Codebreaking Department came from the open trapdoor—a faint red glow from the underground utility lamp.Through the red light, Susan saw Strathmore standing on the platform below. Susan climbed down the stairs. "Director?" Strathmore did not turn around.Susan followed his gaze to look under the railing.Ninety feet below them, Phil Chattrukian lay sprawled, his body pierced by the sharp iron fins of the main generator.His fall shorted out the main power supply to the Cryptography Department. But the most frightening sight was not that of Chartrukian, but that of another body, crouched halfway down the long staircase, hidden in the shadows.It was Greg Hale. Punk screamed at Baker: "Meghan belongs to my friend Eduardo! You stay away from her!" "Where is she?" Baker grabbed the boy's sleeve. "She has a ring that belongs to me. I'll buy it for money! Lots of money!" Shuangse was stunned for a moment. "You mean that damned ugly gold ring is yours?" Baker's eyes widened. "Have you seen it? Where is it?" "Meghan came here to pawn the ring. She wanted to buy a plane ticket - a spare seat." Beck's face suddenly turned pale. "Where are you going?" "Fuck Connecticut." Beck felt a little out of breath from the tension. "When did she leave?" "She went to the airport a few hours ago. It's the perfect place to pawn the ring. As soon as she gets the money, she'll be on the plane back." "Which flight will she take?" "She said something about the cockroach plane. That's what they call it." "When will this plane take off?" "Every Saturday at two o'clock sharp." Baker looked at his watch.1:45 am. Baker snatched a thousand-peseta note (about eight dollars) from his pocket and stuffed it into Shuangse's hand. Bicolor staggered towards the dance floor, not noticing that a man with wire-rimmed glasses was following him. Coming outside the ballroom, Baker glanced at the parking lot, looking for a taxi.None. Suddenly, a tall and burly boy drove an old 250 Hornets scooter into the parking lot.Beck rushed over with a stride. "I'll pay you 10,000 pesetas to take me to the airport!" The boy raised his head. "Excuse me?" He was Italian. "Airport! Please. That Wasp motorcycle! Twenty thousand pesetas!" Baker said in Italian. The Italian looked at his dilapidated scooter and laughed. "Twenty thousand pesetas? This Wasp motorcycle?" "Fifty thousand!" Beck took the initiative, took out five ten thousand peseta notes from his pocket, and handed them to him. "Thank you!" The Italian threw the motorcycle keys to Baker. Strathmore pulled Susan up the ladder leading to the Cryptography Department.The truth is immutable - Hale pushed Chartrukian down. Susan frantically pressed the unlit electronic keypad on the door, but the door in front of her remained motionless.She is trapped; the main door is the only entrance.Since the Cryptography Division was powered independently, the power control room might not even know they were in trouble. "The mains are out," said Strathmore, coming up behind her. "We're running backup generators now." The Cryptography Division's backup power supply was originally designed to power the TRANSLTR and its cooling system before powering other systems such as lights and doorways.It also means that without cooling the surrounding area of ​​TRANSLTR, the heat generated can build up to dangerous levels - possibly even causing a fire. "Abort this run!" she said suddenly.Disabling TRANSLTR leaves enough backup power to get the gates working again. "Relax, Susan," Strathmore said, putting a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. "Deputy Chief! Greg Hale is North Dakota!" In the darkness, the Code Deciphering Department seemed to have fallen into endless silence.Strathmore spoke at last.His voice sounded more bewildered than shocked. "what are you saying?" "Hale..." Susan whispered, "that's North Dakota." Strathmore began to think about what Susan had said, and there was another long silence. "Tracking program?" He seemed puzzled. "The tracking program picked up Hale?" "The tracking program hasn't returned yet. Hale terminated it!" Strathmore shook his head in disbelief. "This is ridiculous! Ensei Yuka will never trust Hale." "Boss," she said, "Hale has tricked us once—the 'Flying Fish' fiasco. Ensei Yuka trusts him." Strathmore seemed at a loss for what to say. "Stop TRANSLTR," Susan pleaded. "We've found North Dakota. Call security. Get us out of here." Strathmore held out his hand for him to think. Suddenly Strathmore sprang to his feet, approached the opening, drew the heavy trapdoor, and let go.The code-breaking department has turned into a dead black hole again.The sublevel has been sealed.But neither he nor Susan heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from Site Three.