Gameprey

18

“Go away, little girl, before you get hurt.”

Doubling her fists, Maj stared at the woman in front of her.

A cruel grin curved the woman’s mouth. Anticipation danced in the predatory amber eyes. “You’re making a mistake, Madeline Green.”

Maj knew the woman was using her name to try to shake her up. “Where’s Peter Griffen?”

Heavener, if that was the woman’s name, took a step forward, keeping her weight balanced and giving a clear indication of familiarity with martial arts. “Is that what he told you? That I know someone named Peter Griffen?”

“You’re at a game convention and you’re not going to know?” Maj countered. “Especially after today?” She glanced past Heavener to the two men in the hallway behind her. Farther back, Leif was just getting through the door, followed by three men who looked like hotel security officers in tuxedos.

The woman launched a front snap-kick without warning and a stiletto heel punched toward Maj’s face. There wasn’t any time to block the kick, so Maj slipped to one side, acutely aware that she was handicapped by heels and a cocktail dress herself.

Still in motion, Maj dropped down to the floor on her side and attempted a leg sweep, intending to knock the woman’s feet from under her. Instead, the woman performed a full somersault in the air. When she landed on her feet, managing to keep the high heels intact, her grin was even wider.

“You know how to play,” Heavener said, lifting her own hands and curling them into fists.

“Company,” one of the men called behind her.

“Cancel it,” Heavener snarled.

Both men flanking her pulled out oversized pistols and fired almost pointblank at Leif and the three security men. The glass door shattered as Leif and the security team went down.

The shrill scream of a security alarm knifed through the hotel lobby.

Holding her position, Heavener tilted her head and regarded Maj. “Your friends, no doubt. You are beginning to get annoying.”

“Wait till you really get to know us,” Maj said, wishing her voice hadn’t cracked so much when she’d said it.

“I guess we’ll forego this little pleasure.” Heavener dropped her fists and waved to the two men. One of them pointed his weapon at Maj.

Maj stepped back, knowing the guy who’d talked to her in the banquet room was gone. Heavener wouldn’t be able to catch him.

“Another time,” Heavener said. She strode purposefully down the hall, putting a hand to one ear as if she was listening. The two men followed.

Another minute and they were gone around the corner. On the ground floor the way they were, Maj knew Heavener and her people would have a choice of escapes. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Maj ran back to the doors where Leif was getting to his feet. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Missed me,” Leif said in surprise, running his hands over his body in disbelief.

Megan stepped through the shattered door, her foilpack in her hand. “I called the front desk and notified them, but they say the security cams aren’t picking up anything. They set the alarm off manually.” She stared at the fallen guards. “I also called Matt. He’s on his way.”

Two of the guards were unconscious from the effects of the tranquilizer darts that had hit them. The other man was delirious from the drug.

Running footsteps caught Maj’s attention. She turned around just as a young, slim man in a bronze turtleneck and khaki slacks sprinted up with a 9mm Beretta naked in his fist. Wheat-colored hair stuck up in spikes and wraparound dark sunglasses hid his eyes. He swept the hallway with his gaze as hotel security guards in regular suits fell in behind him.

“Madeline Green?” the man asked in a polite voice.

“Yes.”

“I’m Special Agent Jon Roarke,” the man said, flipping open an ID case. “Net Force. Captain Winters sent me.”

Maj faced him and took out her foilpack. “You don’t mind if I check on that, do you?”

“No. But maybe you want to bring me up to speed really quick.”

“You’re looking for a blond woman,” Maj said to Agent Roarke as well as the security team behind him, then gave a quick description of Heavener. The men moved out at once, but Maj knew they weren’t going to find her.

“Can you penetrate the masking utility he wore?”

Gaspar Latke sat in his cluttered workspace and replayed the vid captures of his meeting with Maj Green. He hadn’t planned on becoming one of the star interests in Heavener’s investigation, but then Matt Hunter was supposed to have been a safe bet. Heavener’s people hadn’t been able to put buttoncams in the Net Force Explorers’ room because Mark Gridley had beefed up security. With Matt logged on to the Net, it made sense that he might have visited Maj briefly.

“Not without more time,” he answered. The masking utility he used was proof against anything D’Arnot Industries had on-site at the moment. He’d designed it himself.

“We don’t have more time,” Heavener called over the com-link connection. Irritation reached an all-time high in her voice. “The time is now.”

“All we have to do is get through Friday and we’re home free.”

“No, we’re not,” she said coldly. “That got blown out of the water when Peter Griffen’s game bled over into that girl’s veeyar.”

“I told you that the revision he had wasn’t stable,” Gaspar said desperately. “The game engine is too huge and complex. And if I plugged up too much of the coding, it wouldn’t have performed.” It wasn’t his fault. But he knew that didn’t matter. If Heavener wanted to blame him for it, she could. And she would. “Peter’s not a fool. That’s why he opened one of the release packs at the booth instead of using the rev he’d been playing with. All of those should have been the modified rev he’s been working with the last couple months.”

“Shut up,” Heavener ordered.

Gaspar fell silent. He hoped what he’d given Maj Green would keep her active and on Peter Griffen’s trail.

“We have another problem,” Heavener said. “Matt Hunter found Oscar Raitt. I’m sending a team over to his hotel now. I want you to make sure they get in and out without being seen or heard.”

So they’d found Raitt. Excitement flared through Gaspar as he realized the Explorer team was closer to the truth than he’d thought. Then the feeling quickly dimmed when he realized he was being ordered to take that lead away. He hesitated only a moment, knowing he had no choice.

“All right,” he said, and prepared to hack into the Mohammed Arms, hoping he was too late.

Something stank. Matt Hunter shook his head, trying to get away from the stench, but it was impossible. Every time he tried, the stench returned, stronger than ever. Smelling salts, he realized. He shook his head and opened his eyes. Bright lights painfully filled his vision.

“Easy,” a woman said gently. A strong hand clasped Matt around his upper left arm, steadying him. “You’re probably going to feel woozy for a bit. You took a couple nasty raps on the head.”

Matt glanced around the small room. It had shelves of medicines and bandaging supplies, a small sink, and the hospital bed he was lying on. “Where am I?”

“The hotel first-aid station. Can you tell me what hotel?” The speaker was a small woman in her forties with graying red hair and a pinched face. She threw away bloody swabs and sanitized the medical tray she’d used. The instruments went into a specially marked biohazard holder.

“Bessel Midtown.” Matt found that speaking caused his jaw to hurt.

“Can you tell me what happened? It’s for the official report.”

“I was attacked.”

“By a mugger?”

Matt felt in his back pocket, finding his wallet and his foilpack. “A mugger would have robbed me. This was someone else.”

“Do you know who?”

“No.”

The woman continued putting things away. “Do you feel up to answering some questions?”

“I thought I already had been.”

“From the police. There’s an LAPD detective outside. Your friends are out there, too.” The woman returned with a small hand mirror. “I had to put a couple stitches in your temple. Whatever hit you split the skin. You may have a slight concussion. Do you know what to look for?”

Matt nodded and regretted it instantly. His head pounded unmercifully. “Double vision. Nausea. Dizziness. Headaches.”

“Oh, you’re going to have a headache, no doubt about that. I’ll give you some analgesics.” She handed him a small plastic vial. “As soon as you can, you need to get to bed. Are you staying here at the hotel with anyone?”

“A couple friends.”

“Have them keep an eye on you.” She looked at him carefully. “Personally, I think the authorities should ship you to the nearest ER and maybe even schedule you for a CAT scan. Whoever hit you knew what they were doing.”

“Why am I here, rather than getting that CAT scan?”

“I was told the hospital might be too dangerous for you. I’d feel better if you’d go see a doctor the first chance you get. The hotel set up the triage station here for the convention. Things get crazy here when the gamers are in town. I’ve worked here during for the past three years, but I’ve never seen anything like the day we’ve had today.”

Matt stood carefully, feeling light-headed. “Do I owe you anything?”

“No. The hotel takes care of my bills.”

“So I can go?”

“If you think you’re ready.”

Matt thanked her, then showed himself to the door. Maj, Megan, and Leif waited out in the hall, looking worse for the wear themselves. Matt checked the time and discovered he’d lost nearly an hour while he’d been out. Then he noticed the guy leaning against the wall to the right talking to a Hispanic woman in a plain gray business suit.

“How are you feeling?” Maj asked, looking concerned.

“Like I got hit by an autobus,” Matt admitted. “Someone’s supposed to be waiting at the front counter for me. We’ll talk on the way.”

“Hold on there,” the man leaning against the wall said crisply.

Matt froze at the tone of authority in the man’s voice. “Who are you?”

“Jon Roarke,” Maj said as the agent brought out his ID. “Net Force. And that’s Detective Becerra. Both of them have questions.”

“We’ve got to find Oscar Raitt,” Matt said. “He’s been in contact with Peter Griffen.”

“Since the kidnapping?” Detective Becerra asked.

Matt started to shake his head, then immediately thought better of it. “No. I’ll explain on the way.”

“So where is he?” Agent Roarke clearly didn’t look convinced or happy.

Matt gazed around the huge lobby. More people than usual lounged in the chairs and sofas, talking up business in the pit groups. He didn’t know how many of them were really there and how many were there in holo form, but there was one thing he was sure of. “Oscar Raitt’s not here.”

“Maybe he got tired of waiting on you,” Megan suggested. “He could have gone back to his hotel.”

Matt flipped his foilpack open and punched in the hotel number for Oscar Raitt’s room.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the desk clerk said, “but there’s no one in that room.”

“Maybe he’s coming back,” Matt said. “Can I leave a message?”

“Sir, our files show no one in that room. Perhaps you have the wrong room. What is the name of the guest?”

“Oscar Raitt.” Matt waited, wondering if the blows to his head had altered his memory of the room number.

“Sir,” the clerk responded, “no one by that name is checked into the hotel. And no one has been in that room for two days. May I help you with anything else?”

“No, thanks.” Matt closed the foilpack, thinking furiously in spite of the pain in his head. “They say Oscar never checked in.”

“Maybe you got the wrong hotel, kid,” Roarke suggested. “You got your egg scrambled pretty good.”

“Maybe,” Matt said. “But I didn’t make up Oscar Raitt.”

“This is highly irregular,” the desk clerk complained.

“Maybe you want to whisper,” Roarke suggested in a low voice. “You’ve got guests sleeping, and we’re getting pretty close to the room. If someone is hiding inside, I’d hate to see them blow your face off just because you were talking.”

Matt watched the agent in awe. Roarke wasn’t exactly the buttoned-down type that made up most of Net Force’s ranks. He looked at Maj, who walked down the Mohammed Arms hallway with him.

“He’s got a rep as a wild man. I talked to Captain Winters about him,” Maj whispered. “He transferred out of the Navy SEALS to get into Net Force.”

Roarke moved like a force of nature. The young clerk watching the desk at the Mohammed Arms had caved immediately when the agent had flashed his credentials. It helped that Detective Becerra had added her weight, pointing out that the LAPD would appreciate the assistance.

“Where’s he usually assigned?” Matt asked. “A war zone?” His head throbbed but he scanned the hallway, remembering details from his earlier visit.

“I didn’t have time to ask.”

The night clerk halted a few steps from the door, hesitating. Then he handed Roarke the swipe card master. “Maybe I should let you handle this.”

“Good idea,” Roarke said, snapping the swipe card from the man’s hand. He glanced back at Matt, Maj, Megan, and Lisa. “You guys stand back. Winters’s orders were that you guys were supposed to stay out of the line of fire.”

Matt chafed but knew better than to ignore the man. Winters wouldn’t tolerate it. “Yes, sir.”

“Sir?” Roarke appeared surprised, but he quickly turned his attention back to the door. Detective Becerra stepped up beside him. He glanced at the woman. “Done this lately?”

Becerra gave him a tight nod. “I’ve been through a few doors. I’ll take low.” She took a Sig-Sauer 9mm from a holster at her back. The safety snapped off, and she ran her forefinger along the trigger guard.

Roarke grinned tightly. “We do it on three.” He crept to one side of the door and pulled his weapon from beneath his sweater. Holding the swipe card near the lock, he counted in a low voice. As soon as he hit three, he swiped the card through the lock and grabbed the handle.

The click of the lock releasing sounded like a cannonshot in the hallway. The agent twisted the handle and shoved the door open, holding it back with his free hand. The laser sight mounted on his pistol strobed the darkness in the room. “Got it?”

Becerra held her own weapon while in a kneeling position. “Go.”

Striding into the room, Roarke disappeared from Matt’s view. Then a moment later, the agent called, “Clear.” The lights came on inside the room. “No joy.”

Becerra followed him in, staying alert.

Matt was at her heels, swinging into the room an instant after the detective. He scanned the room quickly, taking in the neatly made bed, the clean room, and the total absence of Oscar Raitt.