tanding before the huge plate-glass window in his Tokyoskyrise, Numataka took a long pull on his cigar and smiled tohimself. He could scarcely believe his good fortune. He had spokento the American again, and if all was going according to thetimetable, Ensei Tankado had been eliminated by now, and his copyof the pass-key had been confiscated.

It was ironic, Numataka thought, that he himself would end upwith Ensei Tankado's pass-key. Tokugen Numataka had metTankado once many years ago. The young programmer had come toNumatech Corp. fresh out of college, searching for a job. Numatakahad denied him. There was no question that Tankado was brilliant,but at the time there were other considerations. Although Japan waschanging, Numataka had been trained in the old school; he lived bythe code of menboko—honor and face. Imperfection was not to betolerated. If he hired a cripple, he would bring shame on hiscompany. He had disposed of Tankado's résumé withouta glance.

Numataka checked his watch again. The American, North Dakota,should have called by now. Numataka felt a tinge of nervousness. Hehoped nothing was wrong.

If the pass-keys were as good as promised, they would unlock themost sought-after product of the computer age—a totallyinvulnerable digital encryption algorithm. Numataka could embed thealgorithm in tamper-proof, spray-sealed VSLI chips and mass marketthem to world computer manufacturers, governments, industries, andperhaps, even the darker markets… the black market of worldterrorists.

Numataka smiled. It appeared, as usual, that he had found favorwith the shichigosan—the seven deities of good luck. NumatechCorp. was about to control the only copy of Digital Fortress thatwould ever exist. Twenty million dollars was a lot ofmoney—but considering the product, it was the steal of thecentury.