Digital Fortress Chapter 47

A billion-dollar code? Midge snickered, consecutive Brinkerhoff back up the hallway. Thats a good one.I swear it, he said.She eyed him askance. This better not be some ploy to snuff it me come out of the closet of this dress.Midge, I would never- he said self-righteously.I know, Chad. Dont remind me.thirty seconds later, Midge was sitting in Brinkerhoffs chair and studying the Crypto report.See? he said, careen over her and pointing to the figure in question. This MCD? A billion dollarsMidge chuckled. It does appear to be a touch on the high side, doesnt it?Yeah. He groaned. meet a touch.Looks like a divide-by-zero.A who?A divide-by-zero, she said, scanning the rest of the data. The MCDs calculated as a fraction-total expense divided by number of decryptions.Of course. Brinkerhoff nodded blankly and tried not to peer down the front of her dress.When the denominators zero, Midge explained, the quotient goes to infinity. Computers hate infinity, so they type all nines. She pointe d to a different column. See this?Yeah. Brinkerhoff refoc roled on the paper.Its todays dim production data. Take a look at the number of decryptions.Brinkerhoff dutifully followed her finger down the column.NUMBER OF DECRYPTIONS = 0Midge tapped on the figure. Its just as I suspected. Divide-by-zero.Brinkerhoff arched his eye foreheads. So everythings okay?She shrugged. Just means we pee-peent disquieted whatsoever codes today. TRANSLTR must be taking a take off.A break? Brinkerhoff looked doubtful. Hed been with the director long enough to know that breaks were not part of his favorite(a) modus operandi-particularly with respect to TRANSLTR. Fontaine had paid $2 billion for the code-breaking behemoth, and he wanted his moneys worth. every(prenominal) second TRANSLTR sat idle was money down the toilet.Ah Midge? Brinkerhoff said. TRANSLTR doesnt take any breaks. It runs day and night. You know that.She shrugged. Maybe Strathto a greater extent didnt feel like hanging out last night to prepare the weekend run. He probably knew Fontaine was away(p) and ducked out early to go fishing.Come on, Midge. Brinkerhoff gave her disgusted look. Give the roast a break.It was no secret Midge Milken didnt like Trevor Strathmore. Strathmore had crusadeed a prettysse maneuver rewriting Skipjack, scarce hed been caught. Despite Strathmores bold intentions, the NSA had paid dearly. The have intercourse had gained strength, Fontaine had lost credibility with Congress, and worst of all, the agency had lost a dispense of its anonymity. There were suddenly housewives in Minnesota complaining to America Online and vaticination that the NSA might be reading their E-mail-like the NSA gave a damn around a secret recipe for candied yams.Strathmores blunder had cost the NSA, and Midge felt responsible-not that she could have anticipated the commanding officers stunt, but the bottom line was that an unauthorized action had taken place behind Director Fontaines back, a bac k Midge was paid to cover. Fontaines hands-off attitude made him susceptible and it made Midge nervous. But the director had intentional long ago to stand back and let smart population do their jobs thats exactly how he handled Trevor Strathmore.Midge, you know damn well Strathmores not slacking, Brinkerhoff argued. He runs TRANSLTR like a fiend.Midge nodded. Deep down, she knew that accusing Strathmore of shirking was absurd. The commander was as dedicated as they came-dedicated to a fault. He bore the evils of the gentleman as his own personal cross. The NSAs Skipjack plan had been Strathmores brainchild-a bold attempt to change the world. Unfortunately, like so many divine quests, this crusade stop in crucifixion.Okay, she admitted, so Im being a midget harsh.A little? Brinkerhoff eyes narrowed. Strathmores got a backlog of files a mile long. Hes not about to let TRANSLTR sit idle for a whole weekend.Okay, okay. Midge sighed. My mistake. She furrowed her brow and puzzled why TRANSLTR hadnt disquieted any codes all day. Let me countercheck something, she said, and began flipping through the report. She located what she was looking for and scanned the figures. After a moment she nodded. Youre right, Chad. TRANSLTRs been running play full force. crank consumables are even a little on the high side were at over half a trillion kilowatt-hours since midnight last night.So where does that leave us?Midge was puzzled. Im not sure. Its odd.You want to rebroadcast the data?She gave him a disapproving stare. There were two things one never questioned about Midge Milken. One of them was her data. Brinkerhoff waited while Midge studied the figures.Huh. She in the end grunted. yesterdays stats look fine 237 codes broken. MCD, $874. Average time per code, a little over sextuplet minutes. Raw consumables, average. Last code entering TRANSLTR- She stopped.What is it?Thats funny, she said. Last file on yesterdays dress log ran at 1137 p.m.So?So, TRANSLTR breaks co des every six minutes or so. The last file of the day usually runs side by side(predicate) to midnight. It sure doesnt look like- Midge suddenly stopped short and gasped.Brinkerhoff jumped. WhatMidge was staring at the readout in disbelief. This file? The one that entered TRANSLTR last night?Yeah?It hasnt broken yet. Its queue time was 233708-but it lists no decrypt time. Midge fumbled with the sheets. Yesterday or todayBrinkerhoff shrugged. Maybe those guys are running a ruffianly diagnostic.Midge shook her head. Eighteen hours tough? She paused. Not likely. Besides, the queue data says its an outdoor(a) file. We should call Strathmore.At home? Brinkerhoff swallowed. On a Saturday night?No, Midge said. If I know Strathmore, hes on top of this. Ill bet good money hes here. Just a hunch. Midges hunches were the other thing one never questioned. Come on, she said, stand up. Lets see if Im right.Brinkerhoff followed Midge to her office, where she sat down and began to work Big Brot hers keypads like a virtuoso pipe organist.Brinkerhoff gazed up at the array of closed-caption video monitor lizards on her wall, their screens all freeze frames of the NSA seal. Youre gonna snoop Crypto? he asked nervously.Nope, Midge replied. Wish I could, but Cryptos a sealed deal. Its got no video. No sound. No nothing. Strathmores orders. All Ive got is court stats and basic TRANSLTR stuff. Were lucky weve even got that. Strathmore wanted total isolation, but Fontaine insisted on the basics.Brinkerhoff looked puzzled. Crypto hasnt got video?Why? she asked, without turning from her monitor. You and Carmen looking for a little more privacy?Brinkerhoff grumbled something inaudible.Midge typed some more keys. Im pulling Strathmores elevator log. She studied her monitor a moment and then rapped her knuckle on the desk. Hes here, she said matter-of-factly. Hes in Crypto right now. Look at this. Talk about long hours-he went in yesterday morning bright and early, and his elevator ha snt budged since. Im showing no magno-card use for him on the main door. So hes definitely in there.Brinkerhoff breathed a slight sigh of relief. So, if Strathmores in there, everythings okay, right?Midge thought a moment. Maybe, she finally decided.Maybe?We should call him and double-check.Brinkerhoff groaned. Midge, hes the deputy director. Im sure he has everything under control. Lets not second-guess-Oh, come on, Chad-dont be such a child. Were just doing our job. Weve got a check in the stats, and were following up. Besides, she added, Id like to remind Strathmore that Big Brothers watching. Make him esteem twice before planning any more of his hare-brained stunts to save the world. Midge picked up the phone and began dialing.Brinkerhoff looked uneasy. You really think you should bother him?Im not bothering him, Midge said, tossing him the receiver. You are.