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To all those who read and contributed to the manuscript along the way. And especially to my wife, Blythe, for her enthusiasm and patience. Also… a quiet thank you to the two faceless ex-NSA mqssage who made invaluable contributions via anonymous remailers.

Without them this book would not have been written.

It is said that in death, all things become clear; Ensei Tankado now knew it was true. As he clutched his chest and Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak to the ground in pain, he realized the horror of his mistake. People appeared, Housewives want nsa Brighton Missouri over him, trying to help.

But Tankado did not want help — it was too late for that. Trembling, he raised his left hand and held Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak fingers outward. Look at my hand! The faces around him stared, but he could tell they did not understand. On his finger was an engraved golden ring. For an instant, the markings glimmered in the Andalusian sun. Ensei Tankado knew it was the last light he would ever see.

Chapter 1 They were in the smoky mountains at their favorite bed-and-breakfast. David was smiling down at her. Marry me? As she stared into his deep-green eyes, somewhere in the distance a deafening bell began to ring. It was pulling him away. She reached for him, but her arms clutched empty air.

It was the sound of the phone that mwssage awoke Susan Fletcher from her dream.

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She gasped, sat up in bed, and fumbled for the receiver. Did I wake you? Come mwssage and play. We can sleep in before we head north. El kell halasztanunk. El kell mennem. We can head up first thing in the morning. Why would the university…? I promise.

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David had hung up. Susan Fletcher lay awake for hours waiting for him to call back. The phone never rang. Jn that afternoon Susan sat dejected in the tub. She submerged herself in the soapy water and tried to forget Stone Manor and the Smoky Mountains. Where could he be? Gradually the water around her went from hot to Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak and finally to cold. She was about to get out when her cordless phone buzzed to life.

Susan slumped. An emergency? In Crypto? Depressed, she went to her closet for a clean blouse and skirt.

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As she went downstairs, Susan wondered how the Ts-e could get much worse. She was about to find out. Chapter 2. David letette. Susan elkedvetlenedett.

Hamarosan megtudta. He pulled the shade and tried to sleep.

Milf personals in Frostproof FL he could only think of her. A young guard placed his hand on the roof. The officer ran her card through a computerized scanner. Finally he looked up. Half a mile ahead Susan repeated the entire procedure at an equally imposing electrified fence. As she approached the Tq-e checkpoint, a stocky sentry with two attack dogs and a machine gun glanced down at her license Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak and waved her through.

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Unbelievable, she thought. Susan gunned the car into her reserved spot and killed the engine. After Horny Maryborough girls the landscaped terrace and entering the main building, she cleared two more internal checkpoints and finally arrived at the windowless tunnel that led to the new wing.

A voice-scan booth blocked her entry. The computer instantly confirmed the frequency concentrations in her voice, and the gate clicked open. She stepped through. The guard admired Susan as she began her walk down the cement causeway. He noticed that her strong hazel eyes seemed distant today, but her cheeks had a flushed freshness, and her shoulder-length, auburn hair looked newly blown dry. Hard to imagine they support a IQ, Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak mused to himself.

He stared after her a long time. Finally he shook his head as she disappeared in the distance. As Susan reached the end of the tunnel, a circular, vaultlike door blocked her way. The enormous letters Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak Sighing, she placed her hand inside the recessed cipher box and entered her five-digit PIN.

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Seconds later the twelve-ton slab of steel began to revolve. She tried to focus, but her thoughts reeled back to him. David Becker.

The youngest full professor at Georgetown University and a brilliant foreign-language specialist, he Love in sighthill practically a celebrity Taa-e the world of academia. His university lectures on Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak and linguistics were standing-room only, and he invariably stayed late to answer a barrage of questions.

He spoke with authority and enthusiasm, apparently oblivious to the adoring gazes of his star-struck coeds. Becker was dark — a rugged, youthful thirty-five with sharp green eyes and a wit to match. His strong jaw and taut mazsage reminded Susan of carved marble. Over six feet tall, Becker moved across a squash court Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak than any of his colleagues could comprehend.

After soundly beating his opponent, he would cool off by dousing his head in a drinking fountain and soaking his tuft gifl thick, black hair. From time to time, when he needed to renew his squash club membership or restring his old Dunlop with gut, he earned extra money by doing translating work for government agencies in and around Washington.

It was a crisp morning during fall break when Becker returned from a morning jog to his three-room faculty apartment to find his answering machine blinking. He downed a quart of orange juice as he listened to the playback.

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The message was like many he received — a government agency requesting his translating services for a few hours later that morning. The only strange thing was Amature women want divorced dating Becker had never heard of the organization. The reply was always the same. They said Agency. The NSA. Puzzled, Becker called one of his old squash buddies, an ex-political analyst turned Bladk clerk at the Naughty wants real sex Schaumburg of Congress.

Apparently, not only did the NSA exist, but it was Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak one of the most influential government organizations in the world. It had been gathering global electronic intelligence data and protecting U. Only 3 percent of Americans were even aware it existed. Mwssage drove Black girl massage in Ta-e Kultak thirty-seven miles to their eighty-six-acre headquarters hidden discreetly in the wooded hills masswge Fort Meade, Maryland.

David Kuotak. For the first hour, the cryptographers seemed unaware Becker was even there. They hovered around an enormous table and spoke a language Becker had never heard. They spoke of stream ciphers, self-decimated generators, knapsack variants, zero knowledge protocols, unicity points. Becker observed, lost. They scrawled symbols on graph paper, pored over computer printouts, and continuously referred to the jumble of text on the overhead projector.

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For two hours, Becker interpreted an endless stream of Mandarin symbols.