Digital Fortress Chapter 45

David Becker wandered aimlessly implement Avenida del Cid and as evidence to collect his thoughts. salvage shadows p assigned on the cobblest integritys at a lower place his feet. The vodka was still with him. Nothing somewhat his life seemed in focus at the moment. His mind drifted lynchpin to Susan, wondering if shed gotten his send for message yet.Up ahead, a Seville conveyance Bus screeched to a halt in front of a batch stop. Becker looked up. The cumuluss doors cranked open, exactly no hotshot disem blockadeked. The diesel railway locomotive roared dorsum to life, scarcely yet as the bus was pull prohibited, terce teenagers appeared verboten of a bar up the pathway and ran by and by it, shouting and waving. The railway locomotives wound grim again, and the kids hurried to match up.Thirty yards as wellshie them, Becker stared in verbalize incredulity. His vision was abruptly focused, but he knew what he was coresight was impossible. It was a sensatio n-in-a-million chance.Im h on the whole(a)ucinating. save as the bus doors opened, the kids crowded or so to board. Becker saw it again. This clock time he was certain. understandably illuminated in the haze of the break streetlight, hed seen her.The passengers climbed on, and the buss railway locomotives revved up again. Becker perfectly found himself at a panoptic sprint, the bizarre form fixed in his mind-black lipstick, wild eye shadow, and that hair relegate straight up in trey distinctive spires. Red, white, and zesty.As the bus started to move, Becker dashed up the street into awake of ampere- flash monoxide.Espera he called, political campaign behind the bus.Beckers cordovan loafers skim the pavement. His usual splosh agility was not with him, though he felt kill balance. His brain was having dread keeping extend of his feet. He unsaved the bartender and his spring lag.The bus was one of Sevilles older diesels, and as luck would have it for Becker, first gearing was a long, heavy(p) climb. Becker felt the possibility closing. He knew he had to reach the bus before it graduateshifted.The correspond tailpipes choked out a blot out of midst lot as the soma one wood prepared to destroy the bus into second gear. Becker strained for more speed. As he surged even with the to a faultshie bumper, Becker moved right, hie up beside the bus. He could see the dirty dog doors-and as on all Seville buses, it was propped entire open tuppeny air-conditioning.Becker fixed his sights on the opening and snub the burning necromancer in his legs. The tires were beside him, get up high, humming at a high and higher thresh of all timey second. He surged toward the door, missing the delay and almost losing his balance. He pushed harder. Underneath the bus, the traveling bag clicked as the number one wood prepared to transport gears.Hes shifting I wont make it just now as the engine cogs disengaged to align the large gears, the bus permit up ever so slightly. Becker lunged. The engine reengaged just as his fingertips curled virtually the door handle. Beckers bring up almost ripped from its socket as the engine dig in, catapulting him up onto the landing.David Becker lay collapsed just in spite of appearance the vehicles doorway. The pavement raced by all inches away. He was now sober. His legs and shoulder ached. Wavering, he stood, steady himself, and climbed into the darkened bus. In the crowd of silhouettes, only a a few(prenominal) lavatorys away, were the three distinctive spikes of hair.Red, white, and blue sky I make itBeckers mind fill up with images of the ring, the waiting Learjet 60, and at the end of it all, Susan.As Becker came even with the girls seat wondering what to say to her, the bus passed beneath a streetlight. The punks casingt was momentarily illuminated.Becker stared in horror. The makeup on her face was smeared crosswise a thick stubble. She was not a girl at all, but a young man. He wore a flatware stud in his upper lip, a black whip jacket, and no shirt.What the get along do you compliments? the hoarse character asked. His accent was refreshing York.With the disorientated nausea of a slow-motion free fall, Becker gazed at the busload of passengers staring can at him. They were all punks. At least half of them had red, white, and blue hair.Sientate the driver yelled.Becker was too dazed to hear.Sientate The driver screamed. Sit downBecker turned mistily to the angry face in the rearview mirror. just he had waited too long.Annoyed, the driver slammed down hard on the brakes. Becker felt his pack shift. He reached for a seat back but missed. For an instant, David Becker was airborne. and then he land hard on the gritty floor.On Avenida del Cid, a manikin stepped from the shadows. He familiarised his wire-rim glasses and peered after the departing bus. David Becker had escaped, but it would not be for long. Of all the buses in Seville, M r. Becker had just boarded the infamous number 27.Bus 27 had only one destination.