Chapter 46
Phil Chartrukian slammed down his receiver.
Jabba’s line was busy; Jabba spurned
call-waiting as an intrusive
gimmick that was introduced by AT&T to increase
profits by connecting every call; the simple phrase
“I’m on the other line, I’ll call you back” made phone companies millions
annually. Jabba’s refusal of call-waiting was his own brand of silent objection
to the NSA’s requirement that he carry an
emergency cellular at all
times.
Chartrukian turned and looked out at the deserted Crypto floor. The hum of the generators below sounded
louder every minute. He sensed that
time was running out. He knew he was supposed to leave, but from out of the rumble beneath Crypto, the Sys-Sec
mantra began playing in his head:
Act
first, explain later.
In the high-stakes world
of computer security,
minutes often meant the difference between saving a system or losing it. There was seldom time to justify a defensive
procedure before taking it.
Sys-Secs were paid for their technical expertise… and their instinct.
Act first, explain
later. Chartrukian knew what he had to do. He also knew that when the dust settled,
he would be either an NSA hero or in the
unemployment line.
The great decoding computer
had a virus–of
that, the Sys-Sec
was certain. There was one responsible
course of action. Shut it down.
Chartrukian knew there were only two ways to shut down TRANSLTR. One was the commander’s private
terminal, which was locked in his office–out of the question.
The other was the
manual kill-switch located on one of the sublevels
beneath the Crypto floor.
Chartrukian swallowed hard. He hated the sublevels. He’d only been there once, during training. It was like something out of an alien world with its long mazes of catwalks, freon ducts,
and a dizzy 136-foot drop
to the rumbling power supplies below…
It was the
last place he felt
like going, and Strathmore was the
last person he felt like crossing, but duty
was duty. They’ll thank me tomorrow, he thought, wondering if he was
right.
Taking a deep breath,
Chartrukian opened the senior
Sys-Sec’s metal locker. On a shelf of disassembled computer parts, hidden behind a media concentrator and LAN tester, was a Stanford
alumni mug. Without touching the rim,
he reached inside and lifted out a single Medeco key.
“It’s amazing,”
he grumbled, “what System-Security officers don’t know about security.”
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