Digital Fortress Chapter 32

David Becker stood in the h entirelyway proscribedside suite 301. He knew that somewhere behind the ornately carved adit was the ring. A occasion of national security.Becker could hear move workforcet inside the room. Faint talking. He knocked. A deep Ger patch accent foreknowed out.Ja?Becker remained silent.Ja?The door opened a crack, and a rotund Germanic face gazed down at him.Becker smiled politely. He did not k direct the mans name. Deutscher, ja? he asked. German, unspoilt?The man nodded, uncertain.Becker continued in perfect tense German. May I speak to you a flash?The man savoured uneasy. Was willst du? What do you fatality?Becker realized he should have rehearsed this before brazenly smash on a strangers door. He searched for the right passwords. You have something I need.These were seemingly not the right words. The Germans eyes narrowed.Ein ring, Becker said. Du hast einen Ring. You have a ring.Go away, the German growled. He started to close the door. Withou t thinking, Becker slid his foot into the crack and jammed the door open. He immediately regretted the action.The Germans eyes went wide. Was tust du? he demanded. What atomic number 18 you doing?Becker knew he was in over his head. He glanced nervously up and down the hall. Hed already been thrown out of the clinic he had no intention of going two for two.Nimm deinen Fu? weg the German bellowed. draw off your footBecker scanned the mans pudgy fingers for a ring. Nothing. Im so close, he thought. Ein Ring Becker restate as the door slammed shut.David Becker stood a gigantic moment in the well-furnished hallway. A replica of a Salvador Dali hung nearby. Fitting. Becker groaned. Surrealism. Im trapped in an absurd dream. Hed woken up that daybreak in his own bed barely had somehow ended up in Spain breaking into a strangers hotel room on a request for some magical ring.Strathmores stern voice pulled him back to reality You must find that ring.Becker took a deep breath and blo cked out the words. He wanted to go home. He looked back to the door marked 301. His tag end home was just on the other side-a gold ring. All he had to do was get it.He exhaled purposefully. Then he strode back to suite 301 and knocked loudly on the door. It was time to play hardball.The German yanked open the door and was about to protest, but Becker cut him off. He flashed his Maryland squash familiarity ID and barked, Polizei Then Becker pushed his way into the room and threw on the lights.Wheeling, the German squinted in shock. Was machst- gloss over Becker switched to English. Do you have a prostitute in this room? Becker peered some the room. It was as plush as any hotel room hed ever seen. Roses, champagne, a huge canopy bed. Rocio was nowhere to be seen. The bathroom door was closed.Prostituiert? The German glanced uneasily at the closed bathroom door. He was larger than Becker had imagined. His floccose chest began right under his triple chin and sloped external to his colossal gut. The drawstring of his white terry-c hatfulh Alfonso XIII bathrobe barely reached around his waist.Becker stared up at the giant with his most intimidating look. What is your name?A look of panic rippled across the Germans corpulent face. Was willst du? What do you want?I am with the tourer relations branch of the Spanish Guardia here in Seville. Do you have a prostitute in this room?The German glanced nervously at the bathroom door. He hesitated. Ja, he finally admitted.Do you know this is illegal in Spain?Nein, the German lied. I did not know. Ill lay her home right now.Im afraid its too late for that, Becker said with authority. He strolled casually into the room. I have a proposition for you.Ein Vorschlag? The German gasped. A proposition?Yes. I can take you to headquarters right now Becker paused dramatically and cracked his knuckles.Or what? the German asked, his eyes widening in fear.Or we make a deal.What kind of deal? The German had comprehend stories about the corruption in the Spanish Guardia Civil.You have something I want, Becker said.Yes, of division the German effused, forcing a smile. He went immediately to the wallet on his dresser. How a lot?Becker let his jaw drop in mock indignation. Are you assay to bribe an policeman of the law? he bellowed.No Of course not I just thought The obese man quickly focalize down his wallet. I I He was totally flustered. He collapsed on the corner of the bed and wrung his hands. The bed groaned under his weight. Im sorry.Becker pulled a rose from the vase in the center of the room and casually smelled it before letting it fall to the floor. He spun suddenly. What can you tell me about the murder?The German went white. Mord? Murder?Yes. The Asiatic man this morning? In the park? It was an assassination-Ermordung. Becker loved the German word for assassination. Ermordung. It was so chilling.Ermordung? He he was?Yes.But but thats impossible, the German choked. I was there. He had a heart atta ck. I saw it. No blood. No bullets.Becker agitate his head condescendingly. Things are not always as they seem.The German went whiter still.Becker gave an inward smile. The lie had served its purpose. The poor German was sweating profusely.Wh-wh-at do you want? he stammered. I know nothing.Becker began pacing. The murdered man was wearing a gold ring. I need it.I-I dont have it.Becker sighed patronizingly and motioned to the bathroom door. And Rocio? Dewdrop?The man went from white to purple. You know Dewdrop? He wiped the sweat from his fleshy forehead and drench his terry-cloth sleeve. He was about to speak when the bathroom door swung open.Both men looked up.Rocio Eva Granada stood in the doorway. A vision. Long flowing red hair, perfect Iberian skin, deep-brown eyes, a high smooth forehead. She wore a white terry-cloth robe that matched the Germans. The obligate was drawn snugly over her wide hips, and the neck fell slackly open to reveal her tanned cleavage. She stepped int o the bedroom, the picture of confidence.May I aid you? she asked in throaty English.Becker gazed across the room at the stunning charr before him and did not blink. I need the ring, he said coldly.Who are you? she demanded.Becker switched to Spanish with a dead-on Andalusian accent. Guardia Civil.She laughed. infeasible, she replied in Spanish.Becker felt a knot rise in his throat. Rocio was crystallisely a little tougher than her client. Impossible? he repeated, keeping his cool. Shall I take you downtown to prove it?Rocio smirked. I will not embarrass you by accepting your offer. Now, who are you?Becker stuck to his story. I am with the Seville Guardia.Rocio stepped menacingly toward him. I know every police officer on the force. They are my best clients.Becker felt her stare cutting right through him. He regrouped. I am with a special tourist task force. Give me the ring, or Ill have to take you down to the precinct and-And what? she demanded, peak her eyebrows in mock anti cipation.Becker fell silent. He was in over his head. The forge was backfiring. Why isnt she buying this?Rocio came closer. I dont know who you are or what you want, but if you dont get out of this suite right now, I will call hotel security, and the real Guardia will arrest you for impersonating a police officer.Becker knew that Strathmore could have him out of jail in five minutes, but it had been made very clear to him that this matter was supposed to be handled discreetly. Getting arrested was not part of the plan.Rocio had halt a few feet in front of Becker and was glaring at him.Okay. Becker sighed, accentuating the drink down in his voice. He let his Spanish accent slip. I am not with the Seville police. A U.S. government organization sent me to locate the ring. Thats all I can reveal. Ive been authorized to pay you for it.There was a long silence.Rocio let his statement hang in the air a moment before parting her lips in a sly smile. Now that wasnt so hard, was it? She sa t down on a chair and crossed her legs. How a great deal can you pay?Becker muffled his sigh of relief. He wasted no time getting down to business. I can pay you 750,000 pesetas. louver thousand American dollars. It was half what he had on him but likely ten times what the ring was actually worth.Rocio raised her eyebrows. Thats a lot of money.Yes it is. Do we have a deal?Rocio shook her head. I wish well I could say yes.A million pesetas? Becker blurted. Its all I have.My, my. She smiled. You Americans dont steal very well. You wouldnt last a day in our markets.Cash, right now, Becker said, arrive at for the envelope in his jacket. I just want to go home.Rocio shook her head. I cant.Becker bristled angrily. Why not?I no womb-to-tomb have the ring, she said apologetically. Ive already sold it.