Digital Fortress Chapter 35 Free Essays

Becker stared in shock at Rocio. â€Å"You sold the ring?† The woman nodded, her silky red hair falling around her shoulders. Becker willed it not to be true. We will write a custom essay sample on Digital Fortress Chapter 35 or any similar topic only for you Order Now â€Å"Pero†¦ but†¦Ã¢â‚¬  She shrugged and said in Spanish, â€Å"A girl near the park.† Becker felt his legs go weak. This can’t be! Rocio smiled coyly and motioned to the German. â€Å"El queria que lo guardara. He wanted to keep it, but I told him no. I’ve got Gitana blood in me, Gypsy blood; we Gitanas, in addition to having red hair, are very superstitious. A ring offered by a dying man is not a good sign.† â€Å"Did you know the girl?† Becker interrogated. Rocio arched her eyebrows. â€Å"Vaya. You really want this ring, don’t you?† Becker nodded sternly. â€Å"Who did you sell it to?† The enormous German sat bewildered on the bed. His romantic evening was being ruined, and he apparently had no idea why. â€Å"Was passiert?† he asked nervously. â€Å"What’s happening?† Becker ignored him. â€Å"I didn’t actually sell it,† Rocio said. â€Å"I tried to, but she was just a kid and had no money. I ended up giving it to her. Had I known about your generous offer, I would have saved it for you.† â€Å"Why did you leave the park?† Becker demanded. â€Å"Somebody had died. Why didn’t you wait for the police? And give them the ring?† â€Å"I solicit many things, Mr. Becker, but trouble is not one of them. Besides, that old man seemed to have things under control.† â€Å"The Canadian?† â€Å"Yes, he called the ambulance. We decided to leave. I saw no reason to involve my date or myself with the police.† Becker nodded absently. He was still trying to accept this cruel twist of fate. She gave the damn thing away! â€Å"I tried to help the dying man,† Rocio explained. â€Å"But he didn’t seem to want it. He started with the ring-kept pushing it in our faces. He had these three crippled fingers sticking up. He kept pushing his hand at us-like we were supposed to take the ring. I didn’t want to, but my friend here finally did. Then the guy died.† â€Å"And you tried CPR?† Becker guessed. â€Å"No. We didn’t touch him. My friend got scared. He’s big, but he’s a wimp.† She smiled seductively at Becker. â€Å"Don’t worry-he can’t speak a word of Spanish.† Becker frowned. He was wondering again about the bruises on Tankado’s chest. â€Å"Did the paramedics give CPR?† â€Å"I have no idea. As I told you, we left before they arrived.† â€Å"You mean after you stole the ring.† Becker scowled. Rocio glared at him. â€Å"We did not steal the ring. The man was dying. His intentions were clear. We gave him his last wish.† Becker softened. Rocio was right; he probably would have done the same damn thing. â€Å"But then you gave the ring to some girl?† â€Å"I told you. The ring made me nervous. The girl had lots of jewelry on. I thought she might like it.† â€Å"And she didn’t think it was strange? That you’d just give her a ring?† â€Å"No. I told her I found it in the park. I thought she might offer to pay me for it, but she didn’t. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get rid of it.† â€Å"When did you give it to her?† Rocio shrugged. â€Å"This afternoon. About an hour after I got it.† Becker checked his watch: 11:48 p.m. The trail was eight hours old. What the hell am I doing here? I’m supposed to be in the Smokys. He sighed and asked the only question he could think of. â€Å"What did the girl look like?† â€Å"Era un punki,† Rocio replied. Becker looked up, puzzled. â€Å"Un punki?† â€Å"Si. Punki.† â€Å"A punk?† â€Å"Yes, a punk,† she said in rough English, and then immediately switched back to Spanish. â€Å"Mucha joyeria. Lots of jewelry. A weird pendant in one ear. A skull, I think.† â€Å"There are punk rockers in Seville?† Rocio smiled. â€Å"Todo bajo el sol. Everything under the sun.† It was the motto of Seville’s Tourism Bureau. â€Å"Did she give you her name?† â€Å"No.† â€Å"Did she say where she was going?† â€Å"No. Her Spanish was poor.† â€Å"She wasn’t Spanish?† Becker asked. â€Å"No. She was English, I think. She had wild hair-red, white, and blue.† Becker winced at the bizarre image. â€Å"Maybe she was American,† he offered. â€Å"I don’t think so,† Rocio said. â€Å"She was wearing a T-shirt that looked like the British flag.† Becker nodded dumbly. â€Å"Okay. Red, white, and blue hair, a British flag T-shirt, a skull pendant in her ear. What else?† â€Å"Nothing. Just your average punk.† Average punk? Becker was from a world of collegiate sweatshirts and conservative haircuts-he couldn’t even picture what the woman was talking about. â€Å"Can you think of anything else at all?† he pressed. Rocio thought a moment. â€Å"No. That’s it.† Just then the bed creaked loudly. Rocio’s client shifted his weight uncomfortably. Becker turned to him and spoke influent German. â€Å"Noch et was? Anything else? Anything to help me find the punk rocker with the ring?† There was a long silence. It was as if the giant man had something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. His lower lip quivered momentarily, there was a pause, and then he spoke. The four words that came out were definitely English, but they were barely intelligible beneath his thick German accent. â€Å"Fock off und die.† Becker gaped in shock. â€Å"I beg your pardon? â€Å"Fock off und die,† the man repeated, patting his left palm against his fleshy right forearm-a crude approximation of the Italian gesture for â€Å"fuck you.† Becker was too drained to be offended. Fuck off and die? What happened to Das Wimp? He turned back to Rocio and spoke in Spanish. â€Å"Sounds like I’ve overstayed my welcome.† â€Å"Don’t worry about him.† She laughed. â€Å"He’s just a little frustrated. He’ll get what’s coming to him.† She tossed her hair and winked. â€Å"Is there anything else?† Becker asked. â€Å"Anything you can tell me that might help?† Rocio shook her head. â€Å"That’s all. But you’ll never find her. Seville is a big city-it can be very deceptive.† â€Å"I’ll do the best I can.† It’s a matter of national security†¦ â€Å"If you have no luck,† Rocio said, eyeing the bulging envelope in Becker’s pocket, â€Å"please stop back. My friend will be sleeping, no doubt. Knock quietly. I’ll find us an extra room. You’ll see a side of Spain you’ll never forget.† She pouted lusciously. Becker forced a polite smile. â€Å"I should be going.† He apologized to the German for interrupting his evening. The giant smiled timidly. â€Å"Keine Ursache.† Becker headed out the door. No problem? Whatever happened to â€Å"Fuck off and die†? How to cite Digital Fortress Chapter 35, Essay examples