Cryptonomicon

"Lieutenant Monkberg," says Enoch Root, "as the closest thing we have to a ship's doctor, I am relieving you of your command on medical grounds."

"What medical grounds!?" Monkberg shouts, horrified.

"You are short on blood, and what blood you do have is tainted with morphine," says Lieutenant Enoch Root. "So the second-in-command will have to take over for you and make all decisions as to which direction we will take."

"But you're the only other officer!" Shaftoe says. "Except for the skipper, and hecan't be a skipper without a boat."

"Sergeant Shaftoe!" Root barks, doing such an effective impersonation of a Marine that Shaftoe and Benjamin both stiffen to attention.

"Sir! Yes sir!" Shaftoe returns.

"This is the first and last order I am going to give you, so listen carefully!" Root insists.

"Sir! Yes sir!"

"Sergeant Shaftoe, take me and the rest of this unit to Sweden!"

"Sir! Yes sir!" Shaftoe hollers, and marches out of the cabin, practically knocking Monkberg aside. The others soon follow, leaving the code books behind.

After about half an hour of screwing around with lifeboats, Detachment 2702 finds itself on the ground again, in Norway. The snowline is about fifty feet above sea level; it is fortunate that Bobby Shaftoe knows what to do with a pair of skis. The SAS blokes also know this particular drill, and they even know how to rig up a sort of sled arrangement that they can use to pull Lieutenant Monkberg. Within a few hours, they are deep in the woods, headed east, not having seen a single human being, German or Norwegian, since they ran aground. Snow begins to fall, filling in their tracks. Monkberg is behaving himself--not demanding to be left behind, not sending up flares. Shaftoe begins to think that making it out to Sweden might be one of Detachment 2702's easier missions. The only hard part, as usual, is understanding what the fuck is going on.

Chapter 31 DILIGENCE

Maps of Southeast Asia are up on the walls, and even covering the windows, lending a bunkerlike ambience to Avi's hotel room. Epiphyte Corp. has assembled for its first full-on shareholder's meeting in two months. Avi Halaby, Randy Waterhouse, Tom Howard, Eberhard Föhr, John Cantrell, and Beryl Hagen crowd into the room and pillage the minibar for snacks and soft drinks. Some of them sit on the bed. Eberhard sits barefoot and crosslegged on the floor with his laptop up on a footstool. Avi remains standing. He crosses his arms and leans back, eyes closed, against the endangered-mahogany doors of his entertainment center. He is wearing a brilliantly laundered white shirt, so freshly and heavily starched that it still cracks when he moves. Until fifteen minutes ago he was wearing a t-shirt he hadn't taken off his body for forty-eight hours.

Randy thinks for a minute that Avi may have fallen asleep in the unorthodox standing position. But "Look at that map," Avi says suddenly, in a quiet voice. He opens his eyes and swivels them in their sockets towards same, not wasting precious energy by turning his head. "Singapore, the southern tip of Taiwan, and the northernmost point of Australia form a triangle."

"Avi," says Eb solemnly, "any three points form a triangle." Generally they don't look to Eberhard to leaven the proceedings with humor, but a chuckle passes around the room, and Avi grins--not so much because it's funny as because it's evidence of good morale.

"What's in the middle of the triangle?"

Everyone looks again. The correct answer is a point in the middle of the Sulu Sea,but it's clear what Avi is getting at. "We are," Randy says.

"That's correct," Avi says. "Kinakuta is ideally situated to act as an electronic crossroads. The perfect place to put big routers."

"You're talking shareholderese," Randy warns.

Avi ignores him. "Really it makes a lot more sense this way."

"What way?" Eb asks sharply.

"I've become aware that there are other cable people here. There is a group from Singapore and a consortium from Australia and New Zealand. In other words: we used to be the sole carriers into the Crypt. As of later today, I suspect we will be one of three."

Tom Howard grins triumphantly: he works in the Crypt, he probably knew before anyone. Randy and John Cantrell exchange a look.

Eb sits up stiffly. "How long have you known about this?" he asks, Randy sees a look of annoyance flash across Beryl's face. She does not like being probed.

"Would the rest of you excuse Eb and me for a minute?" Randy says, getting to his feet.

Dr. Eberhard Föhr looks startled, then gets up and follows Randy out of the room. "Where are we going?"

"Leave your laptop," Randy says, escorting him out into the hallway. "We're just going here."

"Why?"