hat?" Midge sputtered in disbelief. "Strathmoreclaims our data is wrong?"

Brinkerhoff nodded and hung up the phone.

"Strathmore denied that TRANSLTR's been stuckon one file for eighteen hours?"

"He was quite pleasant about the whole thing."Brinkerhoff beamed, pleased with himself for surviving the phonecall. "He assured me TRANSLTR was working fine. Said it wasbreaking codes every six minutes even as we speak. Thanked me forchecking up on him."

"He's lying," Midge snapped. "I've beenrunning these Crypto stats for two years. The data is neverwrong."

"First time for everything," he said casually.

She shot him a disapproving look. "I run all data twice."

"Well… you know what they say about computers. Whenthey screw up, at least they're consistent about it."

Midge spun and faced him. "This isn't funny, Chad! TheDDO just told a blatant lie to the director's office. I wantto know why!"

Brinkerhoff suddenly wished he hadn't called her back in.Strathmore's phone call had set her off. Ever since Skipjack,whenever Midge had a sense that something suspicious was going on,she made an eerie transition from flirt to fiend. There was nostopping her until she sorted it out.

"Midge, it is possible our data is off,"Brinkerhoff said firmly. "I mean, think about it—a filethat ties up TRANSLTR for eighteen hours? It's unheard of. Gohome. It's late."

She gave him a haughty look and tossed the report on thecounter. "I trust the data. Instinct says it'sright."

Brinkerhoff frowned. Not even the director questioned MidgeMilken's instincts anymore—she had an uncanny habit ofalways being right.

"Something's up," she declared. "And Iintend to find out what it is."