The Lost Symbol Chapter 33-36

Section 33 Frameworks security authority Mark Zoubianis was sinking further into his futon and frowning at the data on his PC screen. What the heck sort of address is this? His best hacking devices were totally ineffectual at breaking into the report or at exposing Trish's baffling 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 wellbeing 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 stifled discussions out of sight. A phone salesperson during the end of the season games? Is it accurate 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 amusingness. 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 ordered databases?† Three stories over the Capitol Building's subbasement, in the all the way open spaces of the guest place, security monitor Nunez bolted the primary section entryways as he did each night right now. As he headed back over the sweeping 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 work tomorrow. As he made a beeline for the lift, an abrupt beating outwardly entryways made him turn. He squinted back toward the principle passageway and saw an old 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 flawlessly wearing a blue suit and had neatly trimmed turning gray hair. Nunez's heartbeat enlivened. 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 a well mannered gesture. Bellamy was agile and thin, with an erect stance and penetrating look that oozed the certainty of a man in full control of his environmental factors. For the last a quarter century, Bellamy had filled in as the manager 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 accuracy. 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 want to be unannounced.† Nunez had committed some large errors today, however 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.† Part 34 Trish Dunne entered the SMSC entryway and gazed upward with shock. The visitor holding up here looked in no way like the standard adademic, wool clad specialists who entered this buildingâ€those of human studies, oceanography, geography, and other logical fields. Very despite what might be expected, Dr. Abaddon glanced practically highborn in his faultlessly custom-made suit. He was tall, with a wide middle, very much tanned face, and completely brushed fair hair that gave Trish the impression he was more acquainted with extravagances than to research facilities. â€Å"Dr. Abaddon, I presume?† Trish stated, broadening her hand. The man looked dubious, however he took Trish's full hand in his wide palm. â€Å"I'm sorry. What's more, you are?† â€Å"Trish Dunne,† she answered. â€Å"I'm Katherine's partner. 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 statements of regret in the event that I appeared to be confounded. 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.† Regardless of the man's speedy recuperation, Trish had seen the blaze of dissatisfaction in his eyes. She currently speculated the rationale in Katherine's mystery prior about Dr. Abaddon. A growing sentiment, possibly? Katherine never examined her public activity, however her guest was appealing and very much prepared, and albeit more youthful than Katherine, he plainly 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 entryway's security checkpoint, a solitary gatekeeper immediately pulled off his earphones, and Trish could hear the Redskins game booming. The gatekeeper put Dr. Abaddon through the typical guest routine of metal finders and brief security identifications. â€Å"Who's winning?† Dr. Abaddon said approachably as he exhausted his pockets of a mobile 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 grateful wink as they went through. â€Å"Thanks for the heads-up. I'll look busy.† Trish's remark had been to help the gatekeeper as well as to remind Dr. Abaddon that Trish was not by any means the only one barging in on his private night here with Katherine. â€Å"So how would you know Katherine?† Trish asked, looking up at the baffling visitor. Dr. Abaddon laughed. â€Å"Oh, it's a long story. We've been chipping away at something together.† Comprehended, Trish thought. Not my issue to worry about. â€Å"This is an astounding facility,† Abaddon stated, looking around as they descended the enormous hall. â€Å"I've never really been here.† His breezy tone was getting increasingly cheerful with each progression, and Trish saw he was effectively taking it all in. In the brilliant lights of the lobby, she additionally saw that his face seemed as though he had a phony tan. Odd. In any case, as they explored the abandoned hallways, Trish gave him a general rundown of the SMSC's motivation and capacity, including the different cases and their substance. The guest looked dazzled. â€Å"Sounds like this spot has a fortune trove of inestimable ancient rarities. I would have expected watchmen 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 mechanized. Every last trace of this passageway 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 hallway 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 historical center anybody would robâ€there's very little approach the underground market for wiped out blossoms, Inuit kayaks, or mammoth 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 a design include called a â€Å"dead zone†Ã¢â‚¬an aloof 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 ended out of nowhere, turning on his right side, toward a little window. â€Å"My word! Will you take a gander at that!† Trish snickered. 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 monster squid corpse 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, evidently 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 little dog. After five seconds, he was all the while gazing longingly through the window. â€Å"Oka