The Lost Symbol Chapter 33-36

Part 33 Frameworks security master Mark Zoubianis was sinking further into his futon and glowering at the data on his PC screen. What the heck sort of address is this? His best hacking instruments were altogether insufficient at breaking into the report or at exposing Trish's strange IP address. Ten minutes had passed, and Zoubianis' program was all the while beating ceaselessly futile at the system firewalls. They demonstrated little any desire for entrance. No big surprise they're overpaying me. He was going to retool and attempt an alternate methodology when his telephone rang. Trish, for the good of Christ, I said I'd call you. He quieted the football match-up and replied. â€Å"Yeah?† â€Å"Is this Mark Zoubianis?† a man inquired. â€Å"At 357 Kingston Drive in Washington?† Zoubianis could hear other suppressed discussions out of sight. A phone salesperson during the end of the season games? It is safe to say that they are crazy? â€Å"Let me surmise, I won seven days in Anguilla?† â€Å"No,† the voice answered with no hint of silliness. â€Å"This is frameworks security for the Central Intelligence Agency. We might want to know why you are endeavoring to hack one of our arranged databases?† Three stories over the Capitol Building's subbasement, in the all the way open spaces of the guest community, security monitor Nunez bolted the primary section entryways as he did each night as of now. As he headed back over the far reaching marble floors, he thought of the man in the military overflow coat with the tattoos. I let him in. Nunez thought about whether he would have a vocation tomorrow. As he made a beeline for the elevator, an abrupt beating outwardly entryways made him turn. He squinted back toward the primary passage and saw an older African American man outside, rapping on the glass with his open palm and motioning to be allowed in. Nunez shook his head and highlighted his watch. The man beat again and ventured into the light. He was faultlessly wearing a blue suit and had neatly trimmed turning gray hair. Nunez's heartbeat stimulated. Good lord. Indeed, even a ways off, Nunez now perceived who this man was. He rushed back to the passageway and opened the entryway. â€Å"I'm sorry, sir. If you don't mind please come in.† Warren Bellamyâ€Architect of the Capitolâ€stepped over the limit and expressed gratitude toward Nunez with an amenable gesture. Bellamy was flexible and thin, with an erect stance and penetrating look that radiated the certainty of a man in full control of his environmental factors. For the last a quarter century, Bellamy had filled in as the director of the U.S. State house. â€Å"May I help you, sir?† Nunez inquired. â€Å"Thank you, yes.† Bellamy articulated his words with fresh exactness. As a northeastern Ivy League graduate, his style was so demanding he sounded practically British. â€Å"I've recently discovered that you had an occurrence here this evening.† He looked profoundly concerned. â€Å"Yes, sir. It wasâ€â€Å" â€Å"Where's Chief Anderson?† â€Å"Downstairs with Director Sato from the CIA's Office of Security.† Bellamy's eyes extended with concern. â€Å"The CIA is here?† â€Å"Yes, sir. Chief Sato showed up very quickly after the incident.† â€Å"Why?† Bellamy requested. Nunez shrugged. As though I would inquire? Bellamy walked legitimately toward the elevators. â€Å"Where are they?† â€Å"They just went to the lower levels.† Nunez hurried after him. Bellamy looked back with a look of concern. â€Å"Downstairs? Why?† â€Å"I don't generally knowâ€I simply heard it on my radio.† Bellamy was moving quicker at this point. â€Å"Take me to them right away.† â€Å"Yes, sir.† As the two men rushed over the open field, Nunez got a brief look at an enormous brilliant ring on Bellamy's finger. Nunez pulled out his radio. â€Å"I'll alarm the central that you're coming down.† â€Å"No.† Bellamy's eyes flashed hazardously. â€Å"I'd like to be unannounced.† Nunez had committed some large errors today around evening time, yet neglecting to caution Chief Anderson that the Architect was presently in the structure would be his last. â€Å"Sir?† he stated, uncomfortable. â€Å"I figure Chief Anderson would preferâ€â€Å" â€Å"You know that I utilize Mr. Anderson?† Bellamy said. Nunez gestured. â€Å"Then I figure he would incline toward you comply with my wishes.† Section 34 Trish Dunne entered the SMSC anteroom and turned upward with shock. The visitor holding up here looked not at all like the standard scholarly, wool clad specialists who entered this buildingâ€those of human studies, oceanography, geography, and other logical fields. Very in actuality, Dr. Abaddon glanced practically noble in his immaculately custom-made suit. He was tall, with a wide middle, very much tanned face, and totally brushed fair hair that gave Trish the impression he was more acquainted with extravagances than to labs. â€Å"Dr. Abaddon, I presume?† Trish stated, broadening her hand. The man looked dubious, yet he took Trish's full turn in his wide palm. â€Å"I'm sorry. Also, you are?† â€Å"Trish Dunne,† she answered. â€Å"I'm Katherine's right hand. She requested that I escort you back to her lab.† â€Å"Oh, I see.† The man grinned now. â€Å"Very ideal to meet you, Trish. My expressions of remorse in the event that I appeared to be befuddled. I was under the impression Katherine was here alone this evening.† He motioned a few doors down. â€Å"But I'm all yours. Lead the way.† In spite of the man's speedy recuperation, Trish had seen the glimmer of frustration in his eyes. She presently presumed the thought process in Katherine's mystery prior about Dr. Abaddon. A growing sentiment, perhaps? Katherine never examined her public activity, yet her guest was alluring and very much prepped, and albeit more youthful than Katherine, he obviously originated from her universe of riches and benefit. In any case, whatever Dr. Abaddon had envisioned today around evening time's visit may involve, Trish's essence didn't appear to be a piece of his arrangement. At the anteroom's security checkpoint, a solitary gatekeeper immediately pulled off his earphones, and Trish could hear the Redskins game booming. The watchman put Dr. Abaddon through the standard guest routine of metal identifiers and brief security identifications. â€Å"Who's winning?† Dr. Abaddon said amiably as he discharged his pockets of a phone, a few keys, and a cigarette lighter. â€Å"Skins by three,† the gatekeeper stated, sounding anxious to get back. â€Å"Helluva game.† â€Å"Mr. Solomon will show up shortly,† Trish told the watchman. â€Å"Would you please send him back to the lab once he arrives?† â€Å"Will do.† The gatekeeper gave a thankful wink as they went through. â€Å"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll look busy.† Trish's remark had been to serve the gatekeeper as well as to remind Dr. Abaddon that Trish was by all account not the only one encroaching upon his private night here with Katherine. â€Å"So how would you know Katherine?† Trish asked, looking up at the strange visitor. Dr. Abaddon laughed. â€Å"Oh, it's a long story. We've been taking a shot at something together.† Comprehended, Trish thought. Not my issue to worry about. â€Å"This is a stunning facility,† Abaddon stated, looking around as they descended the enormous passage. â€Å"I've never really been here.† His breezy tone was getting increasingly friendly with each progression, and Trish saw he was effectively taking it all in. In the splendid lights of the corridor, she likewise saw that his face appeared as though he had a phony tan. Odd. Regardless, as they explored the abandoned halls, Trish gave him a general abstract of the SMSC's motivation and capacity, including the different cases and their substance. The guest looked intrigued. â€Å"Sounds like this spot has a fortune trove of extremely valuable ancient rarities. I would have expected gatekeepers posted everywhere.† â€Å"No need,† Trish stated, motioning to the column of fish-eye focal points coating the roof high above. â€Å"Security here is computerized. Every last trace of this hall is recorded twenty-four/seven, and this hallway is the spine of the office. It's difficult to get to any of the rooms off this hall without a key card and PIN number.† â€Å"Efficient utilization of cameras.† â€Å"Knock on wood, we've never had a burglary. On the other hand, this isn't the sort of exhibition hall anybody would robâ€there's very little approach the bootleg market for wiped out blossoms, Inuit kayaks, or monster squid carcasses.† Dr. Abaddon laughed. â€Å"I assume you're right.† â€Å"Our greatest security danger is rodents and insects.† Trish clarified how the structure forestalled creepy crawly invasions by freezing all SMSC decline and furthermore by an engineering highlight called a â€Å"dead zone†Ã¢â‚¬an ungracious compartment between twofold dividers, which encompassed the whole structure like a sheath. â€Å"Incredible,† Abaddon said. â€Å"So, where is Katherine and Peter's lab?† â€Å"Pod Five,† Trish said. â€Å"It's right toward the finish of this hallway.† Abaddon stopped out of nowhere, turning on his right side, toward a little window. â€Å"My word! Will you take a gander at that!† Trish giggled. â€Å"Yeah, that is Pod Three. They call it Wet Pod.† â€Å"Wet?† Abaddon stated, face squeezed to the glass. â€Å"There are more than 3,000 gallons of fluid ethanol in there. Recall the goliath squid cadaver I referenced earlier?† â€Å"That's the squid?!† Dr. Abaddon abandoned the window immediately, his eyes wide. â€Å"It's huge!† â€Å"A female Architeuthis,† Trish said. â€Å"She's more than forty feet.† Dr. Abaddon, obviously enchanted by seeing the squid, appeared to be not able to pull his eyes from the glass. For a second, the developed man helped Trish to remember a young man at a pet-store window, wishing he could go in and see a doggy. After five seconds, he was all the while gazing longingly through the window. â€Å"Oka