Digital Fortress Chapter 3

Susans Volvo ginmill rolled to a stop in the shadow of the ten-foot-high, barbed Cycl genius fence. A immature apply placed his hand on the roof.ID, please.Susan obliged and settled in for the unwashed half-minute wait. The darkicer ran her taunt through a computing instrumentized scanner. in the cease he looked up. Thank you, Ms. Fletcher. He gave an imperceptible sign, and the gate swung open.Half a mile a toss Susan repeated the full procedure at an equ solelyy august electrified fence. Come on, guys Ive that been through hither a billion times.As she approached the last-place checkpoint, a stocky sentry with twain attack dogs and a machine shot glanced downward(a) at her license d easi fabrication and waved her through. She followed Canine Road for another 250 yards and pulled into Employee spread C. Unbelievable, she belief. Twenty- half-dozen cat valium employees and a twelve-billion-dollar cypher youd think they could make it through the shed with tu rn turn kayoed me. Susan gunned the car into her reserved spot and killed the engine. aft(prenominal)(prenominal) crossing the landscaped terrace and de n perpetuallytheless when the main build, she cle ard both more than internal checkpoints and fin every last(predicate)y arrived at the windowless turn oer that led to the new extension service. A voice-scan booth blocked her entry.NATIONAL SECURITY perfor objet dartce (NSA) CRYPTO FACILITY AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL exceptThe armed guard looked up. afterwardnoon, Ms. Fletcher.Susan smiled tiredly. Hi, John.Didnt expect you today.Yeah, me neither. She leaned toward the parabolic micro ph unmatchable. Susan Fletcher, she stated clearly. The computer instantly corroborate 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 cause commission. He noticed that her wet hazel eyeb any seemed distant today, save her cheeks had a flushed freshness, and her shoulder-length, auburn sensory hair looked newly blown dry. Trailing her was the idle scent of Johnsons Baby Powder. His eyes drip the length of her slender torso-to her white blouse with the bandeau barely visible beneath, to her knee-length khaki skirt, and finally to her legs Susan Fletchers legs.Hard to imagine they sustain 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 r individuallyed the end of the tunnel, a circular, vault same door blocked her way. The enormous earn read crypto.Sighing, she placed her hand inside the recessed recruit box and entered her five-digit PIN. Seconds subsequent the twelve-ton slab of steel began to revolve. She tried to focus, further when her thoughts reeled tail end to him.David Becker. The only man shed ever loved. The tenderest full professor at Geor abridgeown University and a smart as a whip foreign-language spec ialist, he was practi refery a laurels in the demesne of academia. Born with an representational memory and a love of languages, hed get the hang 6 Asian dialects as well as Spanish, French, and Italian. His university lectures on etymology and linguistics were stand-room only, and he invariably stayed lately to answer a barrage of questions. He round with ascendance and enthusiasm, apparently oblivious to the adoring gazes of his star-struck coeds.Becker was dark-a rugged, novel thirty-five with sharp green eyes and a wit to match. His strong frustrate and taut features reminded Susan of carved marble. Over six feet tall, Becker moved across a embrace court faster than some(prenominal) of his colleagues could comprehend. subsequently soundly beating his opponent, he would cool off off by dousing his head in a drinking commencement and soaking his tuft of thick, black hair. hence, liquid dripping, hed treat his opponent to a surfaceput shake and a bagel.As with a ll young professors, Davids university hire was modest. From time to time, when he needed to renew his constrict auberge membership or restring his old Dunlop with gut, he earned extra bills by doing translating cream for government agencies in and intimately Washington. It was on one of those undertakings that hed met Susan.It was a sharp morning during fall wear thin when Becker re glowering from a morning jog to his leash-room faculty flatbed to find his answering machine blinking. He downed a quart of orange juice as he listened to the gipback. The content was standardised many he received-a government potency requesting his translating services for a few instants later(prenominal) that morning. The only strange affaire was that Becker had neer comprehend of the organization.Theyre called the field Security Agency, Becker said, commerce a few of his colleagues for stress.The reply was eer the same. You mean the field Security Council?Becker canvass the nitty-gritty. No. They said Agency. The NSA.Never heard of em.Becker checked the GAO Directory, and it showed no listing either. putd, Becker called one of his old squash buddies, an ex-political analyst moody look into clerk at the program library of Congress. David was shocked by his friends explanation. exactly, not only did the NSA exist, but it was considered one of the most prestigious government organizations in the world. It had been gathering orbiculate electronic news show data and protect U.S. clearified information for over half a century. Only 3 per centum of Americans were notwithstanding aware it existed.NSA, his buddy joked, stands for No Such Agency. With a mixture of catch and curiosity, Becker accepted the mysterious internal representations offer. He swarm the thirty-seven miles to their eighty-six-acre headquarters hidden discreetly in the wooded hills of Fort Meade, Maryland. After passing through endless auspices checks and being issued a six-h our, holographic invitee pass, he was escorted to a plush research facility where he was told he would spend the good afternoon providing blind support to the secret writing course of instruction-an elite group of mathematical brainiacs cognize as the label-breakers.For the offset printing hour, the cryptographers seemed unaware Becker was even on that point. They hovered around an enormous table and radius a language Becker had never heard. They spoke of stream ciphers, self-decimated generators, knapsack variants, zero cognition protocols, unicity points. Becker observed, lost. They scrawled symbols on graph paper, pored over computer print step ups, and continuously referred to the jumble of text on the overhead projector.JHdja3jKHDhmado/ertwtjlw+jgj3285jhalsfnHKhhhfafOhhdfgaf/fj37weohi93450s9djfd2h/HHrtyFHLf8930395jspjf2j0890Ihj98yhfi080ewrt03jojr845h0roq+jt0eu4tqefqe//oujw08UY0IH0934jtpwfiajer09qu4jr9guivjP$duw4h95pe8rtugvjw3p4e/ikkcmffuerhfgv0q394ikjrmg+unhvs9oerrk/0956 y7u0poikIOjp9f8760qwerqiEventually one of them explained what Becker had already surmised. The scrambled text was a code-a cipher text-groups of numbers and letters representing enroled words. The cryptographers job was to withdraw the code and extract from it the real centre, or cleartext. The NSA had called Becker because they amusinged the original message was written in mandarin orange tree Chinese he was to translate the symbols as the cryptographers decrypted them.For twain hours, Becker interpreted an endless stream of Mandarin symbols. But each time he gave them a translation, the cryptographers shook their heads in despair. Apparently the code was not making sense. animated to help, Becker pointed out that all the partings theyd shown him had a all(prenominal)day trait-they were also part of the Kanji language. Instantly the pluck in the room fell silent. The man in charge, a gangling chain-smoker named Morante, turned to Becker in disbelief.You mean these symbol s nurture doubled meanings?Becker nodded. He explained that Kanji was a Japanese writing system based on change Chinese characters. Hed been giving Mandarin translations because thats what theyd gather uped for. the Nazarene Christ. Morante coughed. Lets try the Kanji.Like magic, everything fell into place.The cryptographers were punctually impressed, but nonetheless, they still made Becker work on the characters out of sequence. Its for your own safety, Morante said. This way, you wont fill out what youre translating.Becker laughed. Then he noticed zero else was laughing.When the code finally broke, Becker had no vagary what dark secrets hed helped reveal, but one thing was for certain-the NSA took code-breaking seriously the check in Beckers hammock was more than an entire months university salary.On his way back out through the serial of security check points in the main corridor, Beckers exit was blocked by a guard hanging up a phone. Mr. Becker, wait here, please.What s the problem? Becker had not pass judgment the meeting to take so long, and he was running late for his standing Saturday afternoon squash match.The guard shrugged. Head of Crypto wants a word. Shes on her way out now.She? Becker laughed. He had yet to see a womanly inside the NSA.Is that a problem for you? a womans voice asked from behind him.Becker turned and right off felt up himself flush. He eyed the ID card on the womans blouse. The head of the NSAs Cryptography Division was not only a woman, but an attractive woman at that.No, Becker fumbled. I comelySusan Fletcher. The woman smiled, holding out her slender hand.Becker took it. David Becker.Congratulations, Mr. Becker. I hear you did a fine job today. Might I chat with you astir(predicate) it?Becker hesitated. Actually, Im in a bit of a rush at the moment. He hoped spurning the worlds most powerful news agency wasnt a foolish act, but his squash match kickoffed in forty-five minutes, and he had a reputation to relat e David Becker was never late for squash class maybe, but never squash. Ill be brief. Susan Fletcher smiled. correctly this way, please.Ten minutes later, Becker was in the NSAs commissary enjoying a popover and cranberry juice with the NSAs lovely head cryptographer, Susan Fletcher. It speedily became evident to David that the thirty-eight-year-olds high-ranking position at the NSA was no fluke-she was one of the brightest women he had ever met. As they discussed codes and code-breaking, Becker found himself struggling to obligate up-a new and exciting experience for him.An hour later, after Becker had obviously missed his squash match and Susan had blatantly ignored three pages on the intercom, both of them had to laugh. at that place they were, two highly analytical minds, presumably immune to irrational infatuations-but somehow, while they sit there discussing linguistic morphology and pseudo- haphazard number generators, they felt desire a couple of teenagers-everything was fireworks.Susan never did get around to the real think shed wanted to speak to David Becker-to offer him a trial post in their Asian Cryptography Division. It was clear from the passion with which the young professor spoke about instruct that he would never leave the university. Susan resolved not to ruin the mood by talking business. She felt like a schoolgirl all over again nought was going to spoil it. And zipper did.Their wooing was slow and romantic-stolen escapes whenever their schedules permitted, long walks through the Georgetown campus, late- iniquity cappuccinos at Merluttis, occasional lectures and concerts. Susan found herself laughing more than shed ever thought possible. It seemed there was nothing David couldnt twist into a joke. It was a obtain release from the intensity of her post at the NSA. one and only(a) crisp, autumn afternoon they sit down in the bleachers watching Georgetown soccer get pummeled by Rutgers.What sport did you regulate you p puzzle ? Susan teased. Zucchini?Becker groaned. Its called squash.She gave him a dumb look.Its like zucchini, he explained, but the courts smaller.Susan pushed him.Georgetowns left wing sent a corner-kick sailing out of bounds, and a boo went up from the crowd. The defensemen speed back downfield.How about you? Becker asked. Play any sports?Im a black belt in Stairmaster.Becker cringed. I prefer sports you can win.Susan smiled. Overachiever, are we?Georgetowns star defenseman blocked a pass, and there was a communal cheer in the stands. Susan leaned over and whispered in Davids ear. Doctor.He turned and eyed her, lost.Doctor, she repeated. Say the world-class thing that comes to mind.Becker looked doubtful. Word associations?Standard NSA procedure. I need to be intimate who Im with. She eyed him sternly. Doctor.Becker shrugged. Seuss.Susan gave him a frown. Okay, try this one kitchen. He didnt hesitate. Bedroom.Susan arching her eyebrows coyly. Okay, how about this cat. Gut, Becker fir ed back.Gut?Yeah. Catgut. compact racquet string of champions.Thats pleasant. She groaned.Your diagnosis? Becker inquired.Susan thought a minute. Youre a childish, slip outually scotch squash fiend.Becker shrugged. Sounds about right.It went on like that for weeks. Over dessert at all- night diners Becker would ask endless questions.Where had she learn math?How did she end up at the NSA?How did she get so captivating?Susan blushed and admitted shed been a late bloomer. rangy and awkward with braces through her late teens, Susan said her Aunt Clara had once told her Gods vindication for Susans plainness was to give her brains. A untimely apology, Becker thought.Susan explained that her care in cryptography had get offed in junior high school. The president of the computer club, a towering eighth grader named uncivil Gutmann, typed her a love poem and encrypted it with a number-substitution scheme. Susan begged to know what it said. Frank flirtatiously refused. Susan took the code home and stayed up all night with a flashlight under her covers until she judge out the secret-every number represented a letter. She carefully decode the code and watched in wonder as the seemingly random digits turned magically into beautiful poetry. In that instant, she knew shed fallen in love-codes and cryptography would cause her life.Almost twenty years later, after getting her masters in mathematics from Johns Hopkins and examine number theory on a full scholarship from MIT, she submitted her doctoral thesis, cryptologic Methods, Protocols, and Algorithms for Manual Applications. Apparently her professor was not the only one who read it shortly afterward, Susan received a phone call and a plane ticket from the NSA.Everyone in cryptography knew about the NSA it was home to the vanquish cryptographic minds on the planet. Each spring, as the private-sector firms descended on the brightest new minds in the hands and offered obscene salaries and stock options, th e NSA watched carefully, selected their targets, and then simply stepped in and doubled the shell standing offer. What the NSA wanted, the NSA bought. Trembling with anticipation, Susan flew to Washingtons Dulles International airport where she was met by an NSA driver, who whisked her off to Fort Meade.There were forty-one others who had received the same phone call that year. At twenty-eight, Susan was the youngest. She was also the only female. The visit turned out to be more of a public transaction bonanza and a barrage of intelligence testing than an informational session. In the week that followed, Susan and six others where invited back. Although hesitant, Susan returned. The group was immediately separated. They underwent individual polygraph tests, minimize searches, handwriting analyses, and endless hours of interviews, including taped inquiries into their sexual orientations and practices. When the interviewer asked Susan if shed ever engaged in sex with animals, she almost walked out, but somehow the secret carried her through-the prospect of working on the cracking edge of code theory, entering The Puzzle Palace, and becoming a member of the most secretive club in the world-the National Security Agency.Becker sat riveted by her stories. They truly asked you if youd had sex with animals?Susan shrugged. Part of the routine background check.Well Becker fought off a grin. What did you say?She kicked him under the table. I told them no Then she added, And until last night, it was true.In Susans eyes, David was as snug to perfect as she could imagine. He only had one unfortunate quality every time they went out, he insisted on plectron up the check. Susan hated seeing him lay down a full days salary on dinner for two, but Becker was immovable. Susan learned not to protest, but it still fazed her. I make more money than I know what to do with, she thought. I should be paying.Nonetheless, Susan decided that aside from Davids outdated sense of chi valry, he was ideal. He was compassionate, smart, funny, and best of all, he had a sincere interest in her work. Whether it was during trips to the Smithsonian, bike rides, or yearning spaghetti in Susans kitchen, David was perpetually curious. Susan answered what questions she could and gave David the general, unclassified overview of the National Security Agency. What David heard enthralled him.Founded by President Truman at 1201 a.m. on November 4, 1952, the NSA had been the most clandestine intelligence agency in the world for almost 50 years. The NSAs seven-page inception doctrine laid out a very concise agendum to protect U.S. government communication theory and to lay off the communications of foreign powers.The roof of the NSAs main operations building was littered with over five hundred antennas, including two openhanded radomes that looked like enormous golf balls. The building itself was mammoth-over two million self-coloured feet, twice the size of CIA headquarte rs. Inside were eight million feet of telephone wire and eighty thousand square feet of permanently sealed windows.Susan told David about COMINT, the agencys global reconnaissance division-a mind-boggling hookup of listening posts, satellites, spies, and wiretaps around the globe. Thousands of communiques and conversations were intercepted every day, and they were all sent to the NSAs analysts for decryption. The FBI, CIA, and U.S. foreign policy advisors all depended on the NSAs intelligence to make their decisions.Becker was mesmerized. And code-breaking? Where do you fit in?Susan explained how the intercepted transmissions often originated from spartan governments, hostile factions, and terrorist groups, many of whom were inside U.S. borders. Their communications were usually encoded for secrecy in slip-up they ended up in the unseasonable hands-which, thanks to COMINT, they usually did. Susan told David her job was to study the codes, break them by hand, and furnish the NSA with the deciphered messages. This was not entirely true.Susan felt a pang of guilt over lying to her new love, but she had no choice. A few years ago it would have been accurate, but things had changed at the NSA. The whole world of cryptography had changed. Susans new duties were classified, even to many in the highest echelons of power.Codes, Becker said, fascinated. How do you know where to start? I mean how do you break them?Susan smiled. You of all people should know. Its like canvass a foreign language. At freshman the text looks like gibberish, but as you learn the rules defining its structure, you can start to extract meaning.Becker nodded, impressed. He wanted to know more.With Merluttis napkins and concert programs as her chalkboard, Susan set out to give her charming new pedagogue a mini course in cryptography. She began with Julius Caesars perfect square cipher box.Caesar, she explained, was the original code-writer in history. When his foot-messengers started gettin g ambushed and his secret communiques stolen, he devised a rudimentary way to encrypt this directives. He rearranged the text of his messages such that the symmetricalness looked senseless. Of course, it was not. Each message al slipway had a letter-count that was a perfect square-sixteen, twenty-five, one hundred-depending on how much Caesar needed to say. He on the Q.T. informed his officers that when a random message arrived, they should transcribe the text into a square grid. If they did, and read top-to-bottom, a secret message would magically appear.Over time Caesars supposition of rearranging text was adopted by others and circumscribed to become more difficult to break. The summit of non computer-based encryption came during World War II. The Nazis create a baffling encryption machine named riddle. The device resembled an old-fashioned typewriter with brass mesh rotors that revolved in intricate ways and shuffled cleartext into confounding arrays of seemingly sensele ss character groupings. Only by having another Enigma machine, calibrated the exact same way, could the receiving system break the code.Becker listened, spellbound. The teacher had become the student.One night, at a university performance of The Nutcracker, Susan gave David his basic basic code to break. He sat through the entire intermission, pen in hand, puzzling over the eleven-letter messageHL FKZC VD LDSFinally, just as the lights subdued for the second half, he got it. To encode, Susan had simply replaced each letter of her message with the letter front it in the alphabet. To decrypt the code, all Becker had to do was shift each letter one space forward in the alphabet-A became B, B became C, and so on. He apace shifted the remaining letters. He never imagined quartette little syllables could make him so capableIM GLAD WE METHe quickly scrawled his chemical reaction and handed it to herLD SNNSusan read it and beamed.Becker had to laugh he was thirty-five years-old, and his heart was doing back flips. Hed never been so attracted to a woman in his life. Her delicate European features and soft brownish eyes reminded him of an ad for Estee Lauder. If Susans body had been lanky and awkward as a teenager, it true wasnt now. Somewhere along the way, she had developed a willowy grace-slender and tall with full, firm breasts and a perfectly flat abdomen. David often joked that she was the first swimsuit model hed ever met with a doctorate in applied mathematics and number theory. As the months passed, they both started to suspect theyd found something that could last a lifetime.Theyd been unitedly almost two years when, out of the blue, David proposed to her. It was on a weekend trip to the Smoky Mountains. They were lying on a big canopy bed at Stone Manor. He had no ring-he just blurted it out. Thats what she loved about him-he was so spontaneous. She kissed him long and hard. He took her in his arms and slipped off her nightgown.Ill take that as a ye s, he said, and they made love all night by the warmth of the fire.That magical level had been six months ago-before Davids unexpected promotion to hot seat of the Modern Language Department. Their relationship had been in a downhill slide ever since.