Digital Fortress Chapter 3

Susans Volvo sedan rolled to a stop in the shadow of the ten-foot-high, barbed Cycl adept fence. A young sustain placed his mass on the roof.ID, please.Susan obliged and curingtled in for the usual half-minute wait. The officer ran her panel with and through a computing craftized scanner. Finally he looked up. Thank you, Ms. Fletcher. He gave an unperceivable sign, and the gate swung open.Half a mile ahead Susan repeated the sinless procedure at an equally imposing electrified fence. Come on, guys Ive only been through here a million ages.As she approached the final inhibitpoint, a duncish sentry with cardinal attack dogs and a machine gun glanced slash at her license plate and waved her through. She followed Canine Road for a nonher 250 yards and pulled into Employee round C. Unbelievable, she thought. Twenty- half-dozen thousand employees and a twelve-billion-dollar budget youd think they could make it through the weekend with bulge me. Susan gunned the car into her r eserved spot and killed the engine.After crossing the decorate terrace and entering the main building, she blanked two more national checkpoints and finally arrived at the windowless tunnel that led to the new wing. A voice-scan carrel blocked her entry.NATIONAL SECURITY AGENCY (NSA) CRYPTO FACILITY AUTHORIZED staff office ONLYThe armed guard looked up. Afternoon, Ms. Fletcher.Susan smiled tiredly. Hi, John.Didnt 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 admire Susan as she began her walk down the cement cause expression. He noticed that her loaded hazel eyes seemed distant today, but her cheeks had a flushed freshness, and her shoulder-length, chromatic hair looked newly blown dry. Trailing her was the faint scent of Johnsons itch Powder. His eyes aviate the length of he r subtile torso-to her white blouse with the bra exactly visible beneath, to her knee-length khaki skirt, and finally to her legs Susan Fletchers legs.Hard to imagine they conduct a 170 IQ, he mused to himself.He stared after her a desire 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 assume crypto.Sighing, she placed her hand inner(a) the recessed cipher box and entered her five-digit PIN. Seconds subsequently(prenominal) 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 shed incessantly loved. The youngest full professor at Georgetown University and a brilliant foreign-language specialist, he was a lot a celebrity in the globe of academia. Born with an eidetic repositing and a love of languages, hed mastered six Asian dialects as good as Spanish, French, and Italian. His university lectures on etymology and linguals were rest-room only, and he invariably stayed late to swear bring out a barrage of questions. He wheel spoke with authority and enthusiasm, apparently thoughtless to the adoring gazes of his star-struck coeds.Becker was dark-a rugged, youthful xxxv with sharp green eyes and a wit to match. His strong jaw and taut features reminded Susan of carved marble. Over six feet tall, Becker moved across a squash court faster than some(prenominal) of his colleagues could comprehend. After soundly beating his opponent, he would cool off by dousing his head in a drinking fountain and sousing his tuft of thick, black hair. Then, still dripping, hed treat his opponent to a production shake and a bagel.As with all young professors, Davids university salary was modest. From time to time, when he ask to renew his squash club membership or restring his old Dunlop with gut, he earned extra money by doing translating plump for goernment agenc ies in and nigh Washington. It was on one of those jobs that hed met Susan.It was a toast morning during fall break when Becker re moody from a morning jog to his three-room talent apartment to find his answering machine blinking. He downed a quart of orange juice as he listened to the playback. The essence was like some(prenominal) he real-a g everyplacenment agency requesting his translating services for a fewer mins later that morning. The only strange involvement was that Becker had neer heard of the organization.Theyre called the subject area protective covering Agency, Becker said, calling a few of his colleagues for reach.The reply was forever the same. You mean the discipline hostage Council?Becker checked the sum. No. They said Agency. The NSA.N ever so heard of em.Becker checked the GAO Directory, and it showed no listing either. Puzzled, Becker called one of his old squash buddies, an ex-political analyst turned research clerk at the Library of Congress. David was shocked by his friends explanation. manifestly, not only did the NSA exist, but it was considered one of the most influential government organizations in the world. It had been gathering global electronic intelligence data and protecting U.S. split upified information for over half a century. Only 3 pct of Americans were even aware it existed.NSA, his buddy joked, stands for No Such Agency. With a concoction of apprehension and curiosity, Becker accepted the mysterious agencys stretch. He drove the thirty-seven miles to their eighty-six-acre render hidden discreetly in the wooded hills of Fort Meade, Maryland. After vent through unfailing security checks and being issued a six-hour, 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 cryptogram Division-an elite sort of mathematical brainiacs tell apartn as the enroll-breakers.For the first hour, the cryptograp hers seemed unaware Becker was even there. They hovered around an enormous table and spoke a language Becker had never heard. They spoke of stream ciphers, self-decimated generators, knapsack variants, zero hold upledge protocols, unicity points. Becker observed, lost. They scrawled symbols on graph paper, pored over computer printouts, and continuously referred to the jumble of schoolbookual matter on the overhead projector.JHdja3jKHDhmado/ertwtjlw+jgj3285jhalsfnHKhhhfafOhhdfgaf/fj37weohi93450s9djfd2h/HHrtyFHLf8930395jspjf2j0890Ihj98yhfi080ewrt03jojr845h0roq+jt0eu4tqefqe//oujw08UY0IH0934jtpwfiajer09qu4jr9guivjP$duw4h95pe8rtugvjw3p4e/ikkcmffuerhfgv0q394ikjrmg+unhvs9oerrk/0956y7u0poikIOjp9f8760qwerqi ultimately one of them explained what Becker had already surmised. The scrambled text was a code-a cipher text-groups of numbers and letters representing encodeed words. The cryptographers job was to study the code and extract from it the pilot burner message, or cleartext. The NSA had called Becker because they suspected the original message was written in mandarin orange tree Chinese he was to translate the symbols as the cryptographers decrypted them.For two 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. drill hole to help, Becker pointed out that all the characters theyd shown him had a common trait-they were as well part of the Kanji language. outright the bustle in the room fell silent. The man in charge, a lanky chain-smoker named Morante, turned to Becker in disbelief.You mean these symbols have multiple meanings?Becker nodded. He explained that Kanji was a Japanese writing system based on modified Chinese characters. Hed been giving Mandarin translations because thats what theyd asked for.Jesus Christ. Morante coughed. Lets try the Kanji.Like magic, all(prenominal)thing fell into place.The cryptogr aphers were duly 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 know what youre translating.Becker laughed. Then he noticed no form else was laughing.When the code finally broke, Becker had no idea what dark secrets hed helped reveal, but one thing was for certain-the NSA took code-breaking seriously the check in Beckers pocket was more than an entire months university salary.On his way back out through the series of security check points in the main corridor, Beckers exit was blocked by a guard hanging up a phone. Mr. Becker, wait here, please.Whats the problem? Becker had not pass judgment the meeting to take so yen, 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 female inside the NSA.Is that a problem for you? a adult females voice asked f rom behind him.Becker turned and now felt 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 justSusan 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 about it?Becker hesitated. Actually, Im in a bit of a armorial bearing at the moment. He hoped spurning the worlds most powerful intelligence agency wasnt a foolish act, but his squash match go awayed in forty-five minutes, and he had a reputation to uphold David Becker was never late for squash class maybe, but never squash. Ill be brief. Susan Fletcher smiled. Right 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 quickly became evident to David that the thirty-eight-yea r-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 keep up-a new and exciting experience for him.An hour later, after Becker had obviously missed his squash match and Susan had blatantly treat three pages on the intercom, both of them had to laugh. in that respect they were, two highly analytic minds, presumably immune to irrational infatuations-but somehow, while they sat there discussing linguistic morphology and pseudo-random number generators, they felt like a couple of teenagers-e genuinelything was fireworks.Susan never did get around to the real reason shed wanted to speak to David Becker-to offer him a trial post in their Asiatic Cryptography Division. It was clear from the passion with which the young professor spoke about teaching that he would never leave the university. Susan decided not to ruin the mood by talking business. She felt lik e a schoolgirl all over again nothing was going to spoil it. And nothing did.Their courtship was slow and romantic-stolen escapes whenever their schedules permitted, long walks through the Georgetown campus, late-wickedness 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 get release from the intensity of her post at the NSA.One crisp, autumn afternoon they sat in the bleachers watching Georgetown soccer get pummeled by Rutgers.What run around did you say you play? 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 hurried back downfield.How about you? Becker asked. chat up any sports?Im a black belt in Stairmaster.Becke r cringed. I favor 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 first thing that comes to mind.Becker looked doubtful. Word associations? example NSA procedure. I need to know 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 arched her eyebrows coyly. Okay, how about this cat. Gut, Becker fired back.Gut?Yeah. Catgut. Squash racket string of champions.Thats pleasant. She groaned.Your diagnosis? Becker inquired.Susan thought a minute. Youre a childish, sexually foiled 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 learned mathematics?How did she end up at the N SA?How did she get so captivating?Susan blushed and admitted shed been a late bloomer. Lanky and bungling with braces through her late teens, Susan said her Aunt Clara had once told her Gods defense for Susans plainness was to give her brains. A premature apology, Becker thought.Susan explained that her interest in coding had started in junior high school. The president of the computer club, a high-flown eighth grader named Frank 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 figured out the secret-every number delineate a letter. She carefully deciphered the code and watched in wonder as the seemingly random digits turned magically into beautiful poetry. In that instant, she knew shed move in love-codes and cryptography would become her life.Almost twenty years later, after getting her masters in mathematics from Johns Hopkins and studying number theory on a full scholarship from MIT, she submitted her doctoral thesis, Cryptographic 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 best cryptographic minds on the planet. individually spring, as the private-sector firms descended on the brightest new minds in the workforce and offered obscene salaries and birth options, the NSA watched carefully, selected their targets, and then simply stepped in and doubled the best standing offer. What the NSA wanted, the NSA bought. affright 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-ei ght, Susan was the youngest. She was also the only female. The visit turned out to be more of a public relations 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, background 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 closely walked out, but somehow the mystery carried her through-the prospect of functional on the cutting edge of code theory, entering The Puzzle Palace, and befitting a member of the most secretive club in the world-the National Security Agency.Becker sat riveted by her stories. They actually asked you if youd had sex with animals?Susan shrugged. Part of the issue background check.Well B ecker 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 close to better as she could imagine. He only had one unfortunate quality every time they went out, he insisted on picking up the check. Susan hated visual perception him lay down a full days salary on dinner party for two, but Becker was immovable. Susan learned not to protest, but it still bothered 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 chivalry, 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, cycle rides, or burning 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. Wh at 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 fifty years. The NSAs seven-page inception doctrine laid out a very concise agenda to protect U.S. government communication theory and to intercept the communications of foreign powers.The roof of the NSAs main operations building was littered with over five hundred antennas, including two large radomes that looked like enormous golf balls. The building itself was mammoth-over two million strong feet, twice the size of CIA headquarters. 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 appeal 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 insurance 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 dangerous governments, hostile factions, and terrorist groups, many of whom were inside U.S. borders. Their communications were usually encoded for secrecy in case they ended up in the amiss(p) hands-which, thanks to COMINT, they usually did. Susan told David her job was to study the codes, break them by hand, and turn in the NSA with the deciphered messages. This was not entirely true.Susan felt a pang of ill-doing 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 multitude should know. Its like studying a foreign language. At first 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 first code-writer in history. When his foot-messengers started getting 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 correspondence looked senseless. Of course, it was not. Each message alship canal had a letter-count that was a perfect square-sixteen, twenty-five, one hundred-depending on how much Caesar needed to say. He secretly inf ormed his officers that when a random message arrived, they should put down the text into a square grid. If they did, and read top-to-bottom, a secret message would magically appear.Over time Caesars concept of rearranging text was adopted by others and modified to become more difficult to break. The pinnacle of non computer-based encryption came during conception War II. The Nazis built a baffling encryption machine named Enigma. The device resembled an old-fashioned typewriter with brass interlocking rotors that revolved in intricate ways and shuffled cleartext into confounding arrays of seemingly senseless character groupings. Only by having other Enigma machine, calibrated the exact same way, could the recipient break the code.Becker listened, spellbound. The instructor had become the student.One night, at a university performance of The Nutcracker, Susan gave David his first underlying code to break. He sat through the entire intermission, pen in hand, puzzling over the el even-letter messageHL FKZC VD LDSFinally, just as the lights dimmed for the second half, he got it. To encode, Susan had simply replaced each letter of her message with the letter preceding it in the alphabet. To decrypt the code, all Becker had to do was transmute each letter one space forward in the alphabet-A became B, B became C, and so on. He quickly shifted the remaining letters. He never imagined four little syllables could make him so happyIM GLAD WE METHe quickly scrawled his response 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 brown eyes reminded him of an ad for Estee Lauder. If Susans body had been lanky and awkward as a teenager, it sure wasnt now. Somewhere along the way, she had developed a willowy grace-slender and tall with full, firm breasts and a dead flat abdomen. David often jok ed 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 together almost two years when, out of the blue, David proposed to her. It was on a weekend trip to the smoking 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 yes, he said, and they made love all night by the warmth of the fire.That magical evening had been six months ago-before Davids unexpected promotion to chair of the Modern Language Department. Their relationship had been in a downhill parachute ever since.