Gameprey

20

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Andy Moore said, jerking a thumb at Leif Anderson.

“I protest,” Leif said, dropping into a cross-legged position on the carpet in Maj’s hotel room. “There was no dragging of cats or other creatures in any of the gaiety I involved myself in.”

“It’s eleven o’clock in the morning,” Andy said, pointing to the tuxedo Leif wore. “Isn’t it premature to go out partying again?”

“Again?” Leif squared up the wilted carnation in the jacket’s boutonniere. “Actually, anyone who wimped out after the banquet last night missed the real parties where business was done. I was scouting the terrain.” He glanced up at the huge breakfast cart room service had brought up at Maj’s request. “Are those muffins?”

Maj scooped a muffin up from the tray. “Blueberry.”

“My favorite.” Leif took the small saucer with the muffin Maj passed to him. He sighed contentedly.

“You’ve been out partying till now?” Catie asked in disbelief.

“Yes.” Leif broke the muffin into halves and munched, then swallowed. “I had a few glasses of champagne and lots of coffee, but nothing to eat. Crumbs on a tux are just too tacky, especially when you’re trying to impress corporate execs who don’t admit to human frailties.”

Maj sat in one of the room’s chairs, her knees pulled up beneath her chin and her feet resting on the chair seat. All of the Net Force Explorers were gathered in her room, getting ready to descend on the convention center. “Were any of the meetings productive?”

“Most of them, no. However, I did get some information on Eisenhower Productions that was very interesting.” Leif took another bite.

“Okay, consider the time limit on the dramatic pause over,” Matt advised. He sat in the floor as well, the right side of his face a mask of purple bruising.

“If you’d looked at the business history of Eisenhower Productions two years ago,” Leif said, “you’d have felt certain the corporation was about to go under. They hadn’t had a solid hit title in four years. With the inflated cost of doing business after having a few profitable years, they’d cut designers and programmers from the payroll.”

“That’s stupid,” Andy snorted. “If you can’t make anything, how are you supposed to sell anything?”

“They tried to make it by just publishing games independent designers came up with. That didn’t work out too well. The guys at the top of the corporation were coasting, getting by on residuals from earlier games that still sold. Frankly, they were on a slow boat to bankruptcy.”

“But two years ago,” Maj said, “something happened.”

“Peter Griffen approached them and started negotiating the release of Realm of the Bright Waters. He’d put together concept art, computer graphics, the story line, and some gameplay. They knew they had a winner on their hands. The only sticking point was that Peter would be the one to set the actual release date. However, at that time Eisenhower was two months away from insolvency.”

“They didn’t tell Peter that,” Maj said.

Leif shook his head. “It would have been suicidal on their part. Peter was even picking up the tab for most of the development so he could maintain control over the game. They didn’t try to buy out any more of the interest than Peter was willing to sell.”

“Because they didn’t have the money,” Megan said.

“Bingo. However, they weren’t going to survive. They were desperate, so they started trying to find someone else to pick up their tab while they waited on Peter.”

“Why should anyone touch them?” Matt asked. “All they’d have to do was wait them out, let their contract and deal go south, then go to Peter.”

“Right,” Leif agreed. “And I’ll bet the CEOs and production managers handling the deal were on the verge of total melt-downs. Here was a goose that laid golden eggs, and they couldn’t even wait around for the first one to drop.”

“Why did Peter pick Eisenhower Productions?” Maj asked. “There were probably other corporations just as approachable.”

“There were,” Leif agreed. “It was just luck of the draw. However, the funding they got is like a national secret. Two years ago somebody poured a mountain of liquid cash into Eisenhower’s coffers. That’s how they were able to do all the marketing for the game today, and how they were able to shore up Peter when his money ran dry.”

“It’s a wonder Eisenhower didn’t try to strong-arm Peter when he was down,” Andy said.

“The way I hear it,” Leif replied, “they did. Only Peter stood his ground, offering to shut the game down till he did other work to pay for it, or take a loan out for the necessary funding from them. They gave him the funding and at a decent interest rate.”

“Where did the other cash come from?” Maj asked.

Leif shrugged. “No one knows. But that’s what they’re telling me happened.”

“Someone believed in Peter’s game,” Catie commented. “That’s the only thing that would have made them invest.”

“But why do it secretly?” Megan asked. “Why not just step forward, buy Eisenhower Productions out if the game was that good, and restructure the deal with Peter? This other corporation could have put pressure on Peter, put him in court with no money, and taken what they wanted.”

Andy shook his head. “Sheesh, you’re beginning to sound like a financial adviser.”

“Profit Channel on HoloNet,” Megan replied. “As the daughter of a writer, you’d be surprised how much extraneous information you pick up.”

“Because whoever invested wanted Peter handling the game,” Leif said.

“Yet Eisenhower wouldn’t let Peter bring Oscar Raitt in when there were game engine design problems. Oscar told me that cost another two months of time to straighten out.”

“It meant one less person they’d have to control,” Leif pointed out. “And evidently this mystery fund-raiser has money to burn.”

“Delaying a return on an investment isn’t good business,” Maj said.

“It is if the business isn’t ready but you know it will be good.”

Maj turned the possibilities over in her mind, trying to fit the pieces together. “They had more at stake than just the money.”

“What?” Matt asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I think if we find out, all of this is going to make sense.”

“Well,” Matt said, “you can understand why the Eisenhower execs would start panicking when Peter mentioned pulling the game. They were about to see their reprieve yanked away from them.”

“Can you trace the money Eisenhower got?” Maj asked Leif.

“I’m trying now. Dad even let me borrow the resources of a couple of his key people who are really good at this kind of thing. If it’s there, they’ll find it. But I’m betting there’s no trail. They’re good, these people.”

“And they’re probably the people Heavener is working for.” Maj had filled the group in on the woman at the beginning of the meeting. “If we can find one trail, we’re going to find them all.” She glanced up at the HoloNet display in the corner.

“But you’ve got to ask yourself,” Matt said, “what the tie is between a freelance industrial spy and an online game.”

No one had an answer, but Maj was deep in thought, thinking about the bleed-over that had occurred. She watched the holo with interest. The hole’s sound was muted, but the picture was clear. Thousands of fans were already in the convention center downstairs, buying the Realm of the Bright Waters game launch on the Net the next morning. The Guinness Book of World Records was already on hand to watch history in the making as the game sold in the convention, in stores across the country, and over the Net.

“How is it going?” Catie nodded at the marketing representative currently testing Maj’s flight-sim. The man sat in an implant chair provided by the convention at a demonstration booth she’d rented for two hours.

Maj shrugged and willed herself not to pace. It was hard because, as tense as she was, her body craved movement. “Okay. I guess.” She paused. “I don’t know. This waiting is killing me.”

“Lighten up.” Catie smiled. “You knew this was going to be the hard part. This isn’t like showing the sim to Matt.”

Maj exhaled. “I know. I told myself that, but it’s different actually living it.”

“So who is this guy?”

Maj looked at the card the man had given her. “Harold J. Dawkins, Fortress Games. He’s a producer.”

“Meaning he can license your sim for the company.”

Maj nodded.

“Fortress is a big name. I didn’t know you had them on your list.”

“I didn’t,” Maj replied. “He just walked over a few minutes ago and asked me if I had the time to let him run through it. Two other reps didn’t show up, so it was no problem.”

Catie crossed her fingers and showed them to Maj, smiling.

Maj tried to ignore the butterflies beating their little brains out in her stomach. “Has Leif found out anything about Eisenhower’s mystery investor?”

“No. Roarke and Matt are busy trying to trace Oscar Raitt’s movements. They found his plane ticket reservation from Sea-Tac, and they’ve located the shuttle driver who brought Raitt into the hotel. However, the hotel’s stance is that if a guest isn’t registered in their computers, that person was never a guest. Holmes has put a detective on the investigation as well, but Matt doesn’t think they’re going to find anything.”

Disappeared, or dead? Maj wondered, feeling very cold inside. The guy who met me at the banquet last night was plenty scared.

Harold J. Dawkins sat up in the implant chair. He was in his mid-twenties, with clipped peroxide-blond hair and a boyish grin. He wore athletic clothing but didn’t look like he owned a club membership anywhere. “Hey, great sim. It’s like you’re really there.” He planed his hand through the air in front of him and made jet engine noises.

Maj smiled, relieved. “Thanks. I put a lot of time into that build.”

“Trust me,” Dawkins said. “It shows. I’m glad I came over here.” He took a PDA pad from his pocket and switched it on. “I think we just might be able to work something out. If you’re ready to license the property.”

Catie looked at Maj with rounded eyes that Dawkins couldn’t see and mouthed, Wow!

“Sure,” Maj said. “I mean, are you sure?”

Dawkins laughed. “I’ve been licensing games for a while. I think I know a good one when I see it. If you could, I’d like to talk to you about the potential arrangements. If you have the time. And that’s assuming you don’t have any other offers you’d like to consider.”

Maj was stunned. “Uh, no, there aren’t any other offers.”

Catie frowned at her, then turned to Dawkins with a sweet smile. “Of course, there are still a few other companies who are going to demo the sim later today and tomorrow.”

“I understand, but I’m prepared to go to contract over this,” Dawkins said. “Right now.”

“Just like that?” Maj asked.

Dawkins shrugged. “It’s a yes-or-no proposition. My company puts me out here to buy games, that’s what I do. If I see something I like, I’ll know it, and then I license it. I guess you could make this harder than what it is, but I never have.”

Everything in Maj wanted to say yes. It was a confirmation of her talents and instincts. But a feeling persisted in her that suddenly everything wasn’t quite right. The offer just didn’t feel right.

“Can I get back to you on that?” Maj asked.

Consternation and irritation showed on Dawkins’s face. “I’d really like to talk to you about this now.”

“I know,” Maj said. “But my dad wants me to talk to him first if anyone is interested in the game.” It wasn’t a lie. Her dad took an interest in everything she did, and he probably would want to talk to her first. “Can I give you a call after I’ve talked to him?”

“I’m really used to getting what I want out of a deal,” Dawkins said.

“I’m not saying you won’t,” Maj replied.

Dawkins hesitated for a moment, as if struggling for something to say. Finally he smiled and left.

Maj watched the rep go, suspicion darkening her thoughts.

“She didn’t go for it,” Heavener said.

Seated behind the cluttered desk in the comfortable disarray of his personal workspace veeyar, Gaspar smiled despite the fear that thrummed steadily in him. Maj Green was proving to be quite resourceful. All the Net Explorers were. He watched Heavener through a buttoncam.

Heavener talked on the encrypted comm-line, and he was only able to hear her side of the conversation. “Maybe Dawkins overplayed his hand,” she said, “but it was within the parameters of his assignment.” She paused. “No, I don’t think the girl is overly suspicious of him.”

Gaspar glanced at the other monitors open to him on the desk, surveying the convention. Heavener’s tech teams had been very quick to reestablish the spylines. As yet, she hadn’t given him any concrete assignments other than to monitor the situation and keep the confusion going on concerning Oscar Raitt.

He’d felt good about the Raitt connection Matt Hunter had turned up. That had been perhaps the only link to Peter that Heavener hadn’t accounted for. The woman had her flaws — other than being a deadly killer and psychotic.

“Stronger measures are called for,” Heavener said. “After ten o’clock Eastern Standard Time tomorrow, it will be too late to stop it.”

Gaspar listened intently. Ten EST was when Realm of the Bright Waters was due to launch. He’d known Peter’s game was the centerpiece of their plans, but he didn’t know D’Arnot Industries was only waiting on the launch. He still wasn’t completely sure what the corporation was going to do with the game’s disruptive programming.

“We kill her,” Heavener said.

Gaspar’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

“Captain Winters will get involved in finding out who executed her,” Heavener continued. “By the time they cordon off the convention and get the investigation set up, they won’t be thinking about the game.”

On the monitor screen Heavener listened for a short time, then she smiled coldly.

“I have a very simple plan in mind,” Heavener said. “Oscar Raitt, the game designer we kidnapped last night, can be used to take the fall. I will set it up so it looks as if Raitt killed Green and Griffen out of jealousy over his friend’s successes. We’ll make it look as if Griffen faked his own disappearance to enhance the marketing of his game. Eisenhower officials will back us up, saying Peter was zealous in making the game a hit. After he murders Green and Griffen, Raitt will be shot dead by one of the hotel guards we’ve bought off.”

Gaspar listened to the silence that followed Heavener’s words. He felt short of breath, liked he’d been running hard.

“Tomorrow morning shortly before the game’s release online,” Heavener agreed, then tapped the touchscreen to break the connection. She turned and walked to Gaspar’s body lying in the implant chair. A knife magically appeared in her hand.

She knows I’ve been listening. The realization hit Gaspar like a depth charge.

“Listen, little bug,” Heavener said in a cold, sandpapery voice, “I know you’ve been spying on me.” She tucked the knife blade up under Gaspar’s physical body. “I let you live so you’d know how futile anything you might try is.”

Gaspar couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. The connection he had with his physical body was dimmed because of the neural interface with the Net, but he still felt the chill of the knife edge at his throat.

“What happens if I slice across the carotid artery here?” Heavener placed the blade’s point against his neck. “You bleed to death, of course. But do you choose to watch your own death from there? Or do you return to your body and die here?”

Gaspar couldn’t answer.

“And if you watch from there,” Heavener went on, “when you die here, do you simply wink out of existence there? Like the last spark in a broken lightbulb?”

Shivering fear ran all through Gaspar. The stress overload indicators flashed a warning in the air beside him. If his reactions didn’t stay under control, the Net would kick him out and put him back in that chair. He struggled to stay calm.

Abruptly Heavener pulled the blade away. “Don’t fail me. There are worse things in life than dying. I know them all.” She stepped toward the buttoncam mounted on the wall and slammed the butt of the knife into it, smashing it.

Inside the veeyar workspace, the monitor changed to a cold, flat empty gray.