Part 32 (1/2)

Hale had Susan's arm twisted behind her back and her neckbent to one side. ”This is your last chance, old man! Give methe gun!”

Strathmore's mind continued to race, searching for anotheroption. There are always other options! Finally hespoke-quietly, almost sadly. ”No, Greg, I'm sorry. Ijust can't let you go.”

Hale choked in apparent shock. ”What!”

”I'm calling Security.”

Susan gasped. ”Commander! No!”

Hale tightened his grip. ”You call Security, and shedies!”

Strathmore pulled the cellular off his belt and flicked it on.”Greg, you're bluffing.” ”You'll never do it!” Hale yelled.”I'll talk! I'll ruin your plan! You're onlyhours away from your dream! Controlling all the data in the world!No more TRANSLTR. No more limits-just free information.It's a chance of a lifetime! You won't let it slipby!”

Strathmore voice was like steel. ”Watch me.”

”But-but what about Susan?” Hale stammered.”You make that call, and she dies!”

Strathmore held firm. ”That's a chance I'm readyto take.”

”Bulls.h.i.+t! You've got a bigger hard-on for her thanyou do for Digital Fortress! I know you! You won't riskit!”

Susan began to make an angry reb.u.t.tal, but Strathmore beat herto it. ”Young man!

You don't know me! I take risksfor a living. If you're looking to play hardball, let'splay!” He started punching keys on his phone. ”Youmisjudged me, son! n.o.body threatens the lives of my employees andwalks out!” He raised the phone and barked into the receiver,”Switchboard! Get me Security!”

Hale began to torque Susan's neck. ”I-I'll killher. I swear it!”

”You'll do no such thing!” Strathmore proclaimed.”Killing Susan will just make things wor-” He brokeoff and rammed the phone against his mouth. ”Security! This isCommander Trevor Strathmore. We've got a hostage situation inCrypto! Get some men in here! Yes, now, G.o.dd.a.m.n it! We alsohave a generator failure. I want power routed from all availableexternal sources. I want all systems on-line in five minutes!

GregHale killed one of my junior Sys-Secs. He's holding my seniorcryptographer hostage. You're cleared to use tear gas on allof us if necessary! If Mr. Hale doesn't cooperate, havesnipers shoot him dead. I'll take full responsibility. Do itnow!”

Hale stood motionless-apparently limp in disbelief. Hisgrip on Susan eased.

Strathmore snapped his phone shut and shoved it back onto hisbelt. ”Your move, Greg.”

CHAPTER 81

Becker stood bleary-eyed beside the telephone booth on theterminal concourse.

Despite his burning face and a vague nausea,his spirits were soaring. It was over.

Truly over. He was on hisway home. The ring on his finger was the grail he'd beenseeking. He held his hand up in the light and squinted at the goldband. He couldn't focus well enough to read, but theinscription didn't appear to be in English.

The first symbolwas either a Q, an O, or a zero, his eyes hurt too much to tell.Becker studied the first few characters. They made no sense. This was a matter of national security?

Becker stepped into the phone booth and dialed Strathmore.Before he had finished the international prefix, he got arecording. ”Todos los circuitos estan ocupados,” thevoice said. ”Please hang up and try your call later.”Becker frowned and hung up. He'd forgotten: Getting aninternational connection from Spain was like roulette, all a matterof timing and luck. He'd have to try again in a fewminutes.

Becker fought to ignore the waning sting of the pepper in hiseyes. Megan had told him rubbing his eyes would only make themworse; he couldn't imagine. Impatient, he tried the phoneagain. Still no circuits. Becker couldn't wait anylonger-his eyes were on fire; he had to flush them with water.Strathmore would have to wait a minute or two. Half blind, Beckermade his way toward the bathrooms.

The blurry image of the cleaning cart was still in front of themen's room, so Becker turned again toward the door markeddamas. He thought he heard sounds inside. He knocked.”Hola?”

Silence.

Probably Megan, he thought. She had five hours to killbefore her flight and had said she was going to scrub her arm tillit was clean.

”Megan?” he called. He knocked again. There was noreply. Becker pushed the door open. ”h.e.l.lo?” He went in.The bathroom appeared empty. He shrugged and walked to thesink.

The sink was still filthy, but the water was cold. Becker felthis pores tighten as he splashed the water in his eyes. The painbegan to ease, and the fog gradually lifted.

Becker eyed himself inthe mirror. He looked like he'd been crying for days.

He dried his face on the sleeve of his jacket, and then itsuddenly occurred to him. In all the excitement, he'dforgotten where he was. He was at the airport! Somewhere out thereon the tarmac, in one of the Seville airport's three privatehangars, there was a Learjet 60 waiting to take him home. The pilothad stated very clearly, I have orders to stay here until youreturn.

It was hard to believe, Becker thought, that after all this, hehad ended up right back where he'd started. What am Iwaiting for? he laughed. I'm sure the pilot can radio amessage to Strathmore!

Chuckling to himself, Becker glanced in the mirror andstraightened his tie. He was about to go when the reflection ofsomething behind him caught his eye. He turned. It appeared to beone end of Megan's duffel, protruding from under a partiallyopen stall door. ”Megan?” he called. There was no reply. ”Megan?”

Becker walked over. He rapped loudly on the side of the stall.No answer. He gently pushed the door. It swung open.

Becker fought back a cry of horror. Megan was on the toilet, hereyes rolled skyward.

Dead center of her forehead, a bullet holeoozed b.l.o.o.d.y liquid down her face.

”Oh, Jesus!” Becker cried in shock.

”Esta muerta,” a barely human voice croakedbehind him. ”She's dead.”

It was like a dream. Becker turned.

”Senor Becker?” the eerie voice asked.

Dazed, Becker studied the man stepping into the rest room. Helooked oddly familiar.

”Soy Hulohot,” the killer said. ”I amHulohot.” The misshapen words seemed to emerge from the depthsof his stomach. Hulohot held out his hand. ”El anillo.

Thering.”

Becker stared blankly.

The man reached in his pocket and produced a gun. He raised theweapon and trained it on Becker's head. ”Elanillo.”

In an instant of clarity, Becker felt a sensation he had neverknown. As if cued by some subconscious survival instinct, everymuscle in his body tensed simultaneously.