nside Node 3, Susan caught herself pacing frantically. Shewished she'd exposed Hale when she'd had the chance.

Hale sat at his terminal. "Stress is a killer, Sue.Something you want to get off your chest?"

Susan forced herself to sit. She had thought Strathmore would beoff the phone by now and return to speak to her, but he was nowhereto be seen. Susan tried to keep calm. She gazed at her computerscreen. The tracer was still running—for the second time. Itwas immaterial now. Susan knew whose address it would return:GHALE@crypto.nsa.gov.

Susan gazed up toward Strathmore's workstation and knew shecouldn't wait any longer. It was time to interrupt thecommander's phone call. She stood and headed for the door.

Hale seemed suddenly uneasy, apparently noticing Susan'sodd behavior. He strode quickly across the room and beat her to thedoor. He folded his arms and blocked her exit.

"Tell me what's going on," he demanded."There's something going on here today. What isit?"

"Let me out," Susan said as evenly as possible,feeling a sudden twinge of danger.

"Come on," Hale pressed. "Strathmore practicallyfired Chartrukian for doing his job. What's going on insideTRANSLTR? We don't have any diagnostics that run eighteenhours. That's bullshit, and you know it. Tell me what'sgoing on."

Susan's eyes narrowed. You know damn well what'sgoing on! "Back off, Greg," she demanded. "Ineed to use the bathroom."

Hale smirked. He waited a long moment and then stepped aside."Sorry Sue. Just flirting."

Susan pushed by him and left Node 3. As she passed the glasswall, she sensed Hale's eyes boring into her from the otherside.

Reluctantly, she circled toward the bathrooms. She would have tomake a detour before visiting the Commander. Greg Hale couldsuspect nothing.