Gameprey

19

“Peter wasn’t one for the rough stuff,” Zenzo Fujikama was saying as he guided Mark and Andy through the Net. “But he showed up pretty often to learn. Hacker hangouts are some of the best places to go to learn cutting-edge programming. And who’s doing it.” In freefall over the huge metropolitan area below, he glanced back over his shoulder at Mark. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Mark didn’t reply.

Andy studied the city below as they fell through the fog toward it. The coastline and the bright lights looked familiar. When he saw the Space Needle, the unique saucer design flattened out below him, he knew where they were. “Seattle?”

“I’ve got some friends I want you to meet.” Fujikama stretched out his arms.

Andy’s vision went away for a moment. When it returned, he was standing inside a small warehouse that looked condemned. Smashed crates, broken boards, and debris covered the scarred concrete floor. The blacked out windows allowed no outside light in. Illumination came from a small room at the back. “What’s this place?”

“Spy headquarters,” Zenzo said, grinning. He started forward and lifted his voice. “Yo, Tommy T!”

Mark kept his voice low. “Don’t get fooled by this place, Andy. It might not look like much, but there are lots of layers we’re not seeing.”

Andy nodded, understanding. “Spy headquarters?” he asked Zenzo.

Zenzo nodded. “Sure. Every year a group of us stake out the gaming convention. We hack into communications feeds, media feeds, the hotel security systems. Whatever we can find.”

“That’s illegal,” Mark said.

“Maybe,” Zenzo admitted. “But it’s the only chance some of us have got.”

“Got for what?” Andy asked, intrigued. The warehouse smelted rank, and he kept curling his nose up, breathing shallowly. He knew they were down near the docks leading out into Puget Sound. The way some of the shadows shifted and moved led him to believe they were rats.

“To break into the biz,” Zenzo said. “If you’re a true gamer, that’s like the quest for the Holy Grail. You game?”

“When I get the chance.”

A door at the other end of the warehouse opened, letting more light into the warehouse and the thundering crash of techno-pop rock. A heavy guy in jeans and a black T-shirt with an imprint of Arachno-Boy in full battle mode stepped out. “Zenzo?”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Zenzo said. “It’s me. Want to shut off the security so we can come in?”

Tommy lifted a hand and pointed. A green button formed in the air, and he pressed it.

Andy saw dozens of light beams suddenly strobe to life, bouncing from one corner of the warehouse to the other, running from side to side and from top to bottom. The only neutral ground inside the warehouse was the spot Zenzo had brought them to.

“Oscar Raitt’s records have been purged from the gaming convention database.”

Matt looked at Catie’s face on his foilpack’s vidscreen. “What about the off-site location?” He’d asked her to check the records, looking for some kind of proof that Oscar had existed.

They’d already checked the phone records from his vidphone link, but they had been erased from the phone company. The phone company remained a prime target for hackers, and with all the access they had to promote in their business, they were still easier to penetrate than most corporations.

“I checked there, too,” Catie confirmed. “Nothing there.”

“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.” Matt closed the foilpack, wishing his head didn’t hurt so badly.

“Hey, kid,” Roarke said. The Net Force agent stood near the hotel room windows overlooking the enclosed passageway leading back to the Bessel. A helo with police markings buzzed through the sky. “Don’t get so down.”

“Kind of hard not to,” Matt said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was imagining things, too.”

Roarke shook his head. “These people, whoever they are, can try to cover up this stuff as much as they want, but it’s already gotten through the seams. When it gets this messy, more than likely we’re going to figure it out.”

“More than likely?” Maj echoed.

Roarke gave her a grin. “Better than fifty-fifty odds.” He leaned against the wall. “The trick is to figure it all out in time. These things tend to have a perishable date on them.”

Matt couldn’t help thinking of Peter Griffen. Is he still being held hostage somewhere, or has that date already run through? He glanced up at Maj and saw the dark look on her face, knowing she was wondering the same thing.

“Agent Roarke?”

They looked at the door to the hotel room and saw the three men in green overalls standing there with equipment cases in their hands.

“You forensics?” Roarke asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“You know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, if you’re waiting on me, don’t.”

“Yes, sir.” The three men moved into the room and opened their cases, removing aerosol applicators. “Where do you want the luminol, sir?”

“Let’s start with the floor,” Roarke ordered. “Blood tends to follow the laws of gravity. If we find anything, we’ll broaden the search.”

Matt swallowed dryly as he watched the men work.

Standing in the huge warehouse, Andy watched the security systems wink out around them.

“We make it hard for anyone to find us,” Zenzo said. “And if they do, we make sure we have plenty of time to log off and run.” He started forward. “Anyway, getting back to the games. As I was saying, any true gamer’s dream is to design games other people will play. A lot of guys build games and put them on the Net for free.”

“I’ve got some friends who do that,” Andy said.

“I could have figured that. Maybe you’re not hardcore, but I bet you know the guys who are. There’s a lot of natural talent out there, and there are also a lot of guys who really aren’t as good as they think they are. However, that doesn’t stop them.”

Andy followed Zenzo into the small room at the end of the warehouse. It was filled to capacity with five workspaces and the three guys and two young women who occupied them. Computer hardware lined the walls, and Andy didn’t doubt that over half of it was designed for security.

“We design games,” Zenzo said, “but it’s tough getting the attention of publishers. They’ve got their own people. They’re not looking for guys like us, total independents who’ve taught themselves.”

“They usually recruit people from video game design colleges,” Mark said.

“Yeah, and they make money off those colleges, too.” Zenzo said with obvious cynicism. “They make profits off the guys they choose who become successes, and they make money off the dreamers, too. And that is truly bogus.”

Andy scanned the monitors around the workspaces. A few of them showed lobby and restaurant scenes.

“We don’t just stake out the Bessel,” Zenzo said. “We wire up local restaurants and clubs the publishers like to visit.” He smiled. “We know all.”

“So you spy on these people,” Andy said in disgust, “and try to leverage your way in to them to sell your games?”

“No.” Zenzo looked offended. “We’re doing market research here. We take a good look at all the publishers, try to figure out who’s looking for what, who might be more interested in what we have to offer. Then we disburse the information to other game designers. Despite all the colleges the publishers create, despite all these wonder programmers they produce, they still need people like us.”

“And like Peter Griffen,” Mark said quietly.

Andy studied the other monitors. Two of the people worked on backgrounds while two more worked on character design. Tommy T appeared to be testing gameplay.

“Peter’s one of us,” Zenzo said. “He didn’t go to their schools. He sent in samples of his work they couldn’t ignore. Blistered them with stuff they’d never seen before and made them come looking for him. Then, when he could have named his own ticket with any publisher out there, Peter pulls a fade for a year and announces he’s putting together his own imprint, subsidized by Eisenhower Productions. That takes brass.”

“You respect him,” Andy said.

Zenzo grinned. “No, man, I want to be Peter Griffen when I grow up. He’s an example to every self-taught gamer who dreams of making it big. That’s why I want him found. Eisenhower Productions isn’t going to just bury him and take his game away from him if I can do anything about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s in the contract,” Zenzo said. “If anything happens to Peter Griffen, all rights to Realm of the Bright Waters revert to Eisenhower. All rights, and every last nickel and dime in profit.”

“Why would he sign something like that?” Mark asked.

“Peter doesn’t have any family,” Zenzo said. “He grew up in an orphanage. That’s why he didn’t have a problem signing the agreement with Eisenhower. Who was he going to leave it to?”

“You think Eisenhower had something to do with his disappearance,” Andy said.

Zenzo nodded. “Without a doubt. They were the ones who chose the floor space over that underground tunnel. That seems kind of suspect to me.”

“Why would they abduct Peter?” Mark asked.

“After that thing today, when the dragon appeared in all those games, Peter was going to pull the game. We overheard two of the Eisenhower execs talking about it in the lobby right after it happened.” Zenzo turned to the heavyset guy in the Arachno-Boy T-shirt. “Tommy T, roll that vid.”

Images came to life on the monitor in front of Tommy T. Andy watched as a young man burst through the doors of the Bessel convention center into the hallway.

“The feek’s hit the fan in there,” the man said to another man in his mid-thirties. “Peter must have used one of the game packs instead of the rev he had.”

“Why?” the older man asked.

“I don’t know, but something’s going to have to be done. He’s demanding to pull the game. He’s getting ready to step back out and announce that the game is flawed.”

Without another word, the older man shouldered the younger one aside and sprinted back into the gaming convention center. The vid ended abruptly.

“Unfortunately,” Tommy T said, “all our cams and audlinks inside the center were down due to the bleed-over.”

“So you don’t know what happened inside the Eisenhower booth for sure?” Mark asked.

“I don’t think you have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out,” Zenzo erupted. “Peter Griffen would have pulled that game. That effect, that rollover into all the other games, that wasn’t an advertising stunt the way some people think. That was a glitch that he wasn’t going to allow.”

“You think they kidnapped him?”

“To keep him from pulling the game? To keep him quiet?” Zenzo nodded. “Oh, yeah. Eisenhower Productions had every reason in the world to do that.” He studied Andy and Mark. “I’m giving you this so you can do something with it. We could pass it on to a HoloNet server, but they’re not going to take it. Not from guys like us. They’ll say we created it ourselves, to get attention. In the meantime, Peter Griffen’s going to be rotting wherever they left him.”

Looking at Mark, Andy said, “I’m in. Zenzo may not have sold me everything, but I want a closer look.”

Mark nodded and shifted his attention back to Zenzo. “What else can you give us?”

Zenzo grinned hugely and swept a hand around the computer hardware-packed room. “Access. And there’s nothing in the world you can’t do when you have access. Peter’s out there somewhere. Let us help you save him.”

“Do you know what luminol is used for?”

Maj nodded, not wanting to look at Roarke. The Net Force agent was too dispassionate in her opinion. They watched from the hallway as the forensics techs finished spraying down the room with the chemical. “It makes blood patterns show up. Even if an area has been scrubbed, trace evidence remains that the luminol can detect.”

“Right.” Roarke leaned against the wall, seeming to watch in the idle speculation, like the whole investigation was just a textbook exercise.

“Agent Roarke,” the lead forensics man called out. “I believe we’re ready.”

“Light it up,” Roarke commanded.

The men placed the ultraviolet projectors in the room to play over the treated carpet areas. They turned them on and switched out the room’s lights.

Immediately a soft blue glow shimmered into being on the carpet. Most of it was gathered in a single area, but there were splatter patterns leading off from it. Maj knew the blue glow represented the amount of blood that had been spilled there recently. God, that’s a lot.

“He was a big guy,” Matt whispered as he came up beside her and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “And maybe that’s not all from him.”

Roarke pushed off the wall and pulled his foilpack out. “Do the entire room. Every scrap, every fiber. I want it all yesterday, and I want it done right.” He glanced at Maj. “Think you and your friends can cover the hospitals? Call and see if someone was admitted to an ER tonight that fits Oscar Raitt’s descriptions? I’m going to see what kind of help Captain Winters can scrounge up for us.”

Maj nodded and took out her own foilpack. Her mind whirled with the possibilities, but it felt good to have something to do. She just didn’t know if Roarke knew that or was just handing off a job he didn’t believe in and didn’t want to do himself.

Back in her room Maj looked over the notes she’d made during the phone calls to all the city’s emergency rooms. It was a short list. Thankfully Oscar Raitt wasn’t just an average person. She’d been surprised how many people had been admitted during the two-hour time frame in question.

Out of all those, only two had any potential for being Oscar Raitt. One of them was in Orange County lockup for attacking a sheriff’s deputy, but Maj didn’t want to overlook any possibilities. She doubted Oscar’d had time to attack a sheriff’s deputy, but maybe he’d gotten spooked. Or maybe the charges were ersatz. Either way, it had to be checked out.

The other possibility was a young man of towering proportions who’d checked into the ER long enough to have a scalp laceration tended to, then walked out when the nurses and doctors weren’t looking.

Maj glanced at the time/date stamp on the muted holo in one corner of the room. It was a handful of minutes past seven A.M. Friday morning. Her eyes burned and she felt worn down to the bone.

Andy was crashed out on the floor in front of the holo, his hands folded behind his head. He snored gently. He and Mark had been out late and had been a little mysterious about what they’d been doing, but Mark had assured her that what they were bringing in would help. Mark was either at home or on the Net.

Catie and Megan had given up only a little while ago, returning to their rooms to grab a shower and a few hours’ sleep. Matt slept facedown on her bed, totally beat. The right side of his face had purpled up dramatically overnight. He’d refused to leave last night, insisting on staying there to guard her.

Some bodyguard. Even though she’d only thought it in jest, Maj felt guilty. It was a further sign of how tired she was because she knew she had nothing to feel guilty about.

Leif Anderson had wandered off, presumably to bed.

And the mysterious Agent Jon Roarke hadn’t bothered to reappear after last night’s disappearance.

Maj underlined the two ER incidents she’d isolated from all the lists they’d generated. She answered the vidphone automatically, punching the connect button.

Captain Winters’s face appeared on the screen. A heavy five o’clock shadow tanned his cheeks, but the knot in his tie looked fresh. “Good morning, Maj. I took a chance that I’d find you still up.”

“I’m not sure how good it is,” Maj replied.

“I don’t know if I’m going to make it any better. Do you mind if I stop by? A holo transmission through the Net will be much easier to encrypt than the phone.”

Maj nodded.

A moment later Captain Winters stepped into her room. He gazed around at Andy and Matt. “Attrition in the ranks?”

“More like exhaustion.”

Winters nodded. “I won’t take up much time. You need to get some sleep as soon as we finish here.”

Maj recognized his words as an order, not a suggestion. “Yes, sir.”

“Intelligence turned up a file on Heavener,” Winters said. “If it’s the same person.” He gestured and another holo formed beside him. This one was of a slender brunette.

At first Maj didn’t key in on the similarities between the brunette and the blonde she’d encountered last night. The shape of her chin and jawline had been altered. And the blonde’s lips were more full. But there was something about the eyes — even though they were blue on the holo instead of the tiger’s-eye amber — which made the identification unmistakable.

“She looks a lot different now,” Maj said, “but it’s her.”

Winters waved a hand through the holo, and it shattered into millions of pixels and disappeared. “Heavener is only one of the aliases she uses. She’s a very dangerous woman.”

“I gathered that from last night.”

“I’ve got a full report I’ll send,” Winters said, “but I’ll give you the highlights now. Her real name — our intelligence division believes — is Katrina Mahler. She’s in her late twenties. She’s worked for the German terrorists, became a specialist in demolitions and close-in assassinations.”

Remembering the cold lights in the woman’s eyes, Maj believed it.

“When the German counterterrorist organization, GSG9, turned up the heat on Heavener, she fled to the Balkan countries and set up shop there for a while. Three years ago she apparently gave up political terrorism for the corporate world. There’s no real proof of that, but that’s been the speculation of the GSG9 people.”

“Do they have any idea of who she’s working for?” Maj asked.

“I’m checking around,” Winters replied. “So far the answer is no.”

“Her working for Eisenhower Productions seems unlikely — a gaming company and some kind of industrial espionage or security work?”

“Our profilers agree,” Winters said. “Heavener is addicted to danger. Her assignments in the past have always been a step over the edge. Whoever she’s working for, it’s someone big. Someone with a huge agenda.”

“But it must tie into the gaming world.”

“She’s here,” Winters agreed. “We have to acknowledge that. Figuring out who she’s working for would be a big help, but I want you and the other Net Force Explorers to stay away from her. She won’t think twice about harming any of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Maj replied, dreading hearing Winters order them off the firing line. But she didn’t want to wait. “Are we going to stay involved in this?”

Winters hesitated. “At this point I don’t have enough authority to get a team from Net Force down there. And if I did, Jay Gridley and I feel showing up in force prematurely would make Heavener and her employers shut down. Whatever they’ve got planned, it’s been underway for a long time. There’s no guarantee that if they backed away from the operation here that we’d have nullified it. And whatever they’re planning may even be in play now.”

“Yes, sir.” Enthusiasm at this point, Maj told herself, would be sooo out of place. She restrained herself.

“The convention lasts another three days,” Winters went on. “For now, I want you and the rest of your team to keep your eyes and ears open and to stay away from Heavener and her group.”

Maj nodded.

“And keep me apprised of any changes in the situation immediately.”

“Of course. Could I ask a question?”

“Certainly.”

“I need to know about Agent Roarke.” Maj felt guilty for bringing it up. Winters stood firmly behind anyone he put into the field.

“Jon Roarke,” Winters said, “has a lot of abrasive qualities, but he’s a good man. Before he got this assignment, he was on administrative leave.”

Uh-oh, Maj thought. Read that as bucking the chain of command.

“He achieves his assignments,” Winters said, “but his manner of achieving them has sometimes left muddied waters. Even so, I feel lucky to get him.”

“Thank you,” Maj said. “That’s what I needed to know.”

Winters said good-bye and faded from the room.

Maj peered out the hotel windows at the early morning sunshine breaking over downtown Los Angeles’s skyline. Despite the promise of sunlight, a cold feeling of dread seeped into her.