Free The Canton Connection by Fritz Galt

homeland?”
    For the first time Simpson looked uncomfortable. “Actually, no. We don’t get information on attacks on the U.S. from the DHS. We wouldn’t know whom to attack.”
    Jake was stunned. That explained the calm, relaxed atmosphere of the building. “You’re not at a state of high alert?”
    Simpson nodded carefully. “We go about our business.”
    Jake was afraid to ask the next logical question. “Then whose business is this?”
    Simpson jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The corporal could take you over to the NSA and see what they have their eye on.”
    Jake had the distinct feeling that he was getting the runaround. Here were two government departments sharing the same military base, yet they operated in two different worlds.
    The DHS handled security for .gov. The Pentagon handled security for .mil. Who was out there preventing attacks on the .com world?
    The economy was a national security issue and it might well be under attack. Why didn’t the American people face up to that fact?
    As he signed out and picked up his cell phone at the guard post, he began to wonder what all the security was for. The military could take his phone away, yet they couldn’t thwart foreign agents who might want to take down the entire economy.
    Suddenly, all the impressive pickup trucks in the parking lot seemed inadequate and ill-suited to tackle problems of the 21 st Century.
     

Chapter 14
     
    A thin layer of rain still coated the road and a musky scent hung in the air.
    Jake fell in behind Corporal Jones’s pickup truck as they headed across the base.
    He had been surprised and disappointed to learn that the U.S. military was prevented from launching a counterattack against whoever was trying to access the A root server and that it would be up to someone else to identify the culprits and shut them down.
    And from the way he was being shuttled around, from the cyber units of the FBI to DHS to DoD to NSA, he had a growing suspicion that the duty would fall to him.
    They passed several trails that led into the woods until they reached a small sign that read, “NSA.”
    Could the eavesdropping experts help him track down who was behind the murder of Quantum’s president, and help expose any plot involving Stacy and the A root server?
    The trees suddenly ended, and Jake faced a sea of cars parked before enormous buildings.
    Up to that point, he had been impressed by the base’s isolation and secrecy. Suddenly there was a concentration of workers so extensive it was hard to believe the American people barely knew about it.
    The austere and monolithic buildings surrounded by cars reminded him of some religious site on a holy day. What was everyone worshiping?
    There was a sense of order in the neat rows of cars. He also noticed a change in vehicle types from sporty, off-road vehicles at the military parking lot to sedate little civilian cars, including a large number of gas-efficient, hybrid, and electric cars.
    Clearly the brains at the National Security Agency had a different culture and lifestyle than their military neighbors.
    Entering the computer facility at the NSA reminded him of returning to school. It had the same sharpened pencil smell of a math classroom.
    From what he knew of the NSA, he was entering a sort of paradise for mathematicians. Here was where all the codes were broken. These were the people who crunched all the data they received through radio, telephone, cell phone, and computer sources on planet Earth. They operated so many supercomputers and analyzed so many signals, that he was sure he was entering an electromagnetic field that would make his fillings hurt.
    As with all top-secret government buildings, he had to leave his cell phone at the front desk.
    Major Simpson had called ahead, and a team of NSA officials was waiting for Jake and Corporal Jones.
    A ring of men stood mutely watching him pass through security. They wore shirts and ties, civilian clothes chosen by people who rarely