"Dan Brown - Digital Fortress (v2.0)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Dan)

CHAPTER 3

Susan's Volvo sedan rolled to a stop in the shadow of the ten-foot-high, barbed Cyclone
fence. A young guard placed his hand on the roof.
"ID, please."
Susan obliged and settled in for the usual half-minute wait. The officer ran her card
through a computerized scanner. Finally he looked up. "Thank you, Ms. Fletcher." He
gave an imperceptible sign, and the gate swung open.
Half a mile ahead Susan repeated the entire procedure at an equally imposing electrified
fence. Come on, guys... I've only been through here a million times.
As she approached the final checkpoint, a stocky sentry with two attack dogs and a
machine gun glanced down at her license plate and waved her through. She followed
Canine Road for another 250 yards and pulled into Employee Lot C. Unbelievable, she
thought. Twenty-six thousand employees and a twelve-billion-dollar budget; you'd think
they could make it through the weekend without me. Susan gunned the car into her
reserved spot and killed the engine.
After crossing the landscaped terrace and entering the main building, she cleared two
more internal checkpoints and finally arrived at the windowless tunnel that led to the new
wing. A voice-scan booth blocked her entry.
NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA)
CRYPTO FACILITY
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
The armed guard looked up. "Afternoon, Ms. Fletcher."
Susan smiled tiredly. "Hi, John."
"Didn't expect you today."
"Yeah, me neither." She leaned toward the parabolic microphone. "Susan Fletcher," she
stated clearly. The computer instantly confirmed the frequency concentrations in her
voice, and the gate clicked open. She stepped through.
* * *
The guard admired Susan as she began her walk down the cement causeway. He noticed
that her strong hazel eyes seemed distant today, but her cheeks had a flushed freshness,
and her shoulder-length, auburn hair looked newly blown dry. Trailing her was the faint
scent of Johnson's Baby Powder. His eyes fell the length of her slender torso--to her
white blouse with the bra barely visible beneath, to her knee-length khaki skirt, and
finally to her legs... Susan Fletcher's legs.
Hard to imagine they support a 170 IQ, he mused to himself.
He stared after her a long time. Finally he shook his head as she disappeared in the
distance.
* * *
As Susan reached the end of the tunnel, a circular, vaultlike door blocked her way. The
enormous letters read: crypto.
Sighing, she placed her hand inside the recessed cipher box and entered her five-digit
PIN. Seconds later the twelve-ton slab of steel began to revolve. She tried to focus, but
her thoughts reeled back to him.
David Becker. The only man she'd ever loved. The youngest full professor at Georgetown
University and a brilliant foreign-language specialist, he was practically a celebrity in the
world of academia. Born with an eidetic memory and a love of languages, he'd mastered
six Asian dialects as well as Spanish, French, and Italian. His university lectures on
etymology and linguistics were standing-room only, and he invariably stayed late to
answer a barrage of questions. He spoke with authority and enthusiasm, apparently