pain. I sent David to Spain. The commander's wordsstung.

"David's in Spain?" Susan was incredulous."You sent him to Spain?" Her tone turned angry. "Why?"

Strathmore looked dumbfounded. He was apparently not accustomedto being yelled at, even by his head cryptographer. He gave Susan aconfused look. She was flexed like a mother tiger defending hercub.

"Susan," he said. "You spoke to him, didn'tyou? David did explain?"

She was too shocked to speak. Spain? That's why Davidpostponed our Stone Manor trip?

"I sent a car for him this morning. He said he was going tocall you before he left. I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Why would you send David to Spain?"

Strathmore paused and gave her an obvious look. "To get theother pass-key."

"What other pass-key?"

"Tankado's copy."

Susan was lost. "What are you talking about?"

Strathmore sighed. "Tankado surely would have had a copy ofthe pass-key on him when he died. I sure as hell didn't wantit floating around the Seville morgue."

"So you sent David Becker?" Susan was beyond shock.Nothing was making sense. "David doesn't even work foryou!"

Strathmore looked startled. No one ever spoke to the deputydirector of the NSA that way. "Susan," he said, keepinghis cool, "that's the point. I needed—"

The tiger lashed out. "You've got twenty thousandemployees at your command! What gives you the right to send myfiancé?"

"I needed a civilian courier, someone totally removed fromgovernment. If I went through regular channels and someone caughtwind—"

"And David Becker is the only civilian you know?"

"No! David Becker is not the only civilian I know!But at six this morning, things were happening quickly! Davidspeaks the language, he's smart, I trust him, and I thoughtI'd do him a favor!"

"A favor?" Susan sputtered. "Sending him to Spainis a favor?"

"Yes! I'm paying him ten thousand for one day'swork. He'll pick up Tankado's belongings, and he'llfly home. That's a favor!"

Susan fell silent. She understood. It was all about money.

Her thoughts wheeled back five months to the night the presidentof Georgetown University had offered David a promotion to thelanguage department chair. The president had warned him that histeaching hours would be cut back and that there would be increasedpaperwork, but there was also a substantial raise in salary. Susanhad wanted to cry out David, don't do it! You'll bemiserable. We have plenty of money—who cares which one of usearns it? But it was not her place. In the end, she stood byhis decision to accept. As they fell asleep that night, Susan triedto be happy for him, but something inside kept telling her it wouldbe a disaster. She'd been right—but she'd nevercounted on being so right.

"You paid him ten thousand dollars?" she demanded."That's a dirty trick!"

Strathmore was fuming now. "Trick? It wasn't anygoddamn trick! I didn't even tell him about the money. I askedhim as a personal favor. He agreed to go."

"Of course he agreed! You're my boss! You're thedeputy director of the NSA! He couldn't say no!"

"You're right," Strathmore snapped. "Whichis why I called him. I didn't have the luxuryof—"

"Does the director know you sent a civilian?"

"Susan," Strathmore said, his patience obviouslywearing thin, "the director is not involved. He knows nothingabout this."

Susan stared at Strathmore in disbelief. It was as if she nolonger knew the man she was talking to. He had sent herfiancé—a teacher—on an NSA mission and then failedto notify the director about the biggest crisis in the history ofthe organization.

"Leland Fontaine hasn't beennotified?"

Strathmore had reached the end of his rope. He exploded."Susan, now listen here! I called you in here because I needan ally, not an inquiry! I've had one hell of morning. Idownloaded Tankado's file last night and sat here by theoutput printer for hours praying TRANSLTR could break it. At dawn Iswallowed my pride and dialed the director—and let me tellyou, that was a conversation I was really lookingforward to. Good morning, sir. I'm sorry to wake you. Why am Icalling? I just found out TRANSLTR is obsolete. It's becauseof an algorithm my entire top-dollar Crypto team couldn't comeclose to writing!" Strathmore slammed his fist on thedesk.

Susan stood frozen. She didn't make a sound. In ten years,she had seen Strathmore lose his cool only a handful of times, andnever once with her.

Ten seconds later neither one of them had spoken. FinallyStrathmore sat back down, and Susan could hear his breathingslowing to normal. When he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calmand controlled.

"Unfortunately," Strathmore said quietly, "itturns out the director is in South America meeting with thePresident of Colombia. Because there's absolutely nothing hecould do from down there, I had two options—request he cut hismeeting short and return, or handle this myself." There was along silence. Strathmore finally looked up, and his tired eyes metSusan's. His expression softened immediately. "Susan,I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. This is a nightmare come true.I know you're upset about David. I didn't mean for you tofind out this way. I thought you knew."

Susan felt a wave of guilt. "I overreacted. I'm sorry.David is a good choice."

Strathmore nodded absently. "He'll be backtonight."

Susan thought about everything the commander was goingthrough—the pressure of overseeing TRANSLTR, the endless hoursand meetings. It was rumored his wife of thirty years was leavinghim. Then on top of it, there was Digital Fortress—the biggestintelligence threat in the history of the NSA, and the poor guy wasflying solo. No wonder he looked about to crack.

"Considering the circumstances," Susan said, "Ithink you should probably call the director."

Strathmore shook his head, a bead of sweat dripping on his desk."I'm not about to compromise the director's safetyor risk a leak by contacting him about a major crisis he can donothing about."

Susan knew he was right. Even in moments like these, Strathmorewas clear-headed. "Have you considered calling thePresident?"

Strathmore nodded. "Yes. I've decided againstit."

Susan had figured as much. Senior NSA officials had the right tohandle verifiable intelligence emergencies without executiveknowledge. The NSA was the only U.S. intelligence organization thatenjoyed total immunity from federal accountability of any sort.Strathmore often availed himself of this right; he preferred towork his magic in isolation.

"Commander," she argued, "this is too big to behandled alone. You've got to let somebody else in onit."

"Susan, the existence of Digital Fortress has majorimplications for the future of this organization. I have nointention of informing the President behind the director'sback. We have a crisis, and I'm handling it." He eyed herthoughtfully. "I am the deputy director ofoperations." A weary smile crept across his face. "Andbesides, I'm not alone. I've got Susan Fletcher on myteam."

In that instant, Susan realized what she respected so much aboutTrevor Strathmore. For ten years, through thick and thin, he hadalways led the way for her. Steadfast. Unwavering. It was hisdedication that amazed her—his unshakable allegiance to hisprinciples, his country, and his ideals. Come what may, CommanderTrevor Strathmore was a guiding light in a world of impossibledecisions.

"You are on my team, aren't you?" heasked.

Susan smiled. "Yes, sir, I am. One hundredpercent."

"Good. Now can we get back to work?"