Desperate Measures

22

Brian kept shaking his head, alternately bewildered and dismayed. “This is…”

“I swear to you, it’s the truth.”

“Look, you can’t do anything about this on your own. You have to go to the police. Tell them what you just told me.”

“If you have trouble believing me, would they?”

“But you don’t have a choice.”

“No. I don’t think the police could keep me safe.”

“Man, oh man, do you realize what you sound like?”

“Who was it said that paranoia was the only sane attitude to have these days?”

Brian looked appalled. “And you expect me to…”

“Get me into some computer files that I otherwise wouldn’t have access to.”

“Like?”

“At my newspaper. I have to show ID and sign in to enter the building. A guard or someone else would recognize me. They’d call the police. But I know the passwords that allow access from an outside telephone.”

Brian looked somewhat less threatened. “That’s not hard to do. In fact, it’s almost a legitimate request. Under other circumstances, it would be legal.”

“Yes.” Pittman had fed the baby and now was changing its diaper.

“And that’s all?”

“Well…”

“There’s something else?”

“I need to get into the computer system for the city’s criminal records.”

“Jesus.”

“Isn’t there a way to route the call through a system of long-distance relays so the call can’t be traced before I get the information I need?”

“Yes, but…”

Pittman turned as someone opened the door.

The woman-a redhead, severely thin, with stern features-looked alarmed at the sight of Pittman holding the baby. “What are…?”

“Gladys, this is a friend of mine,” Brian said.

“Ed Garner,” Pittman said, hoping that if he used a different name, she wouldn’t associate him with the photographs of him on CNN or in the newspapers.

Gladys marched to a kitchen counter, set down two bags of groceries, and took possession of her baby. Her pinched expression suggested that she felt Pittman wasn’t worthy enough to have touched her offspring. “Ed Garner?” She squinted at Brian. “You never mentioned him before.”

“Well, I…”

“We were buddies in college,” Pittman said. “We loved to fool around with computers.”

“Computers? You weren’t a hacker, I hope.” Her voice had the grating sound of a knife being sharpened.

“Never had the nerve.”

“Brian had too much nerve. He went to prison for it.” Her eyes glared.

“Anyway,” Pittman said, trying to change the subject, “I heard Brian was living in this area. I’ve got relatives not far from here, so I figured I’d drop in. Brian was just about to show me some of the stuff he’s doing for Nintendo.”

Wrinkles developed between Gladys’s eyes.

“Weren’t you, Brian?” Pittman said.

“If that’s all right, Gladys. You can see the baby’s been fed and changed.”

Gladys narrowed her steely gaze at him. “Just remember, we have to be at my mother’s in an hour.”

“I couldn’t possibly forget.”

Brian and Pittman went into the computer room. Brian shut the door. He looked angrily at Pittman.

Pittman worried that the anger was directed at him, then understood its true target.

He had an ally.