Gameprey

21

In her hotel room Maj lay back in the implant chair and leaped onto the Net. She opened her personal workspace and placed a call to Leif’s foilpack.

On the third ring Leif answered, his head appearing in a monitor. “Yes.”

“I was just offered a licensing agreement for my flight-sim,” Maj said without preamble.

Leif looked near-exhaustion, but he smiled. “Congratulations.”

“I don’t think so,” Maj replied. “I think it was a setup. This guy didn’t want to take no for an answer and seemed a little put out when I didn’t want to start talking negotiations immediately.

“Nobody does business like that,” Leif said.

“He says he does.”

“And what do you think?”

“That someone sent him my way as a distraction,” Maj answered honestly.

“Because of Peter Griffen’s disappearance?”

“It’s bigger than that,” Maj said. “And I think it’s more than just the money involved.”

“Maj, when you’re talking about corporations, money’s always the bottom line.”

“Actually, there’s two things,” Maj replied. “You’re used to looking at business somewhat altruistically. Wealth is like politics and is usually about two things.”

“Money”—Leif nodded, understanding—“and power. So if it’s not about the money, where does the power come in?”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you could look into Fortress Games. They’re a major player in the software entertainment business, but maybe they’ve got partners.”

“I’ll take a look,” Leif promised, “and let you know.”

Maj thanked him and broke the connection. Then she placed a call to Mark, catching him on the Net as she’d expected. A vidscreen opened up in her workspace, showing Mark dressed in his crashsuit.

“Andy and I are taking a close look at the Realm of the Bright Waters online gaming package,” Mark said. “Want to come up?”

“Find anything interesting?”

“Maybe,” Mark admitted. “But it’s nothing really glaring. Come take a peek.” He extended a hand through the vidscreen.

Maj took his hand and let him pull her through the Net telecommunications system. The Net blurred around her. In the next instant she stood on a high cliff overlooking a tree-strewn valley. Bright river water reflected the sun as it rushed through the valley’s heart.

“Is there any reason we’re wearing these?” Maj waved at the crashsuit she wore that was similar to Mark’s.

“The game pack has a tendency to want to react with any kind of programming in it,” Andy said. He sat hunkered down at the cliff’s edge, dressed in a crashsuit as well. “Really user-friendly.”

“Is that unusual?” Maj asked.

“Not so much,” Mark admitted. “A lot of game packs tend to be automatically engaging. They present the world and the possibilities, and hope to catch someone’s eye long enough to sign them up for the online services.”

Maj peered into the valley. Brightly colored birds sped through the trees, winged heartbeats of red, orange, emerald green, and shimmering dark blue.

“I wanted us here without triggering all the interactive programming,” Mark said. “When we first got here, we were attacked by a primitive culture.”

“Real Stone Age throwbacks,” Andy agreed, with a grin. “But I had my sword, and Mark had a couple spells tucked away. He set his hair on fire at one point. You should have seen them run.”

“Sounds like fun,” Maj said.

“Like I said,” Mark went on, “the interactive feature is pretty standard. It entices the gamer to want to see the rest of the world. Good stuff. Well designed and well thought out. However—”

“This,” Maj said, “is the part I was waiting for.”

“I checked for the anomaly you and Matt ran into in your veeyar. I ran some diagnostics against what’s being offered in the game pack against what you experienced. The anomaly isn’t here.”

Maj considered that, trying to make it fit with what she was thinking. “It should have been.”

“It’s not. But I checked over the game pack programming and discovered other interesting details. A lot of the normal programming from an online interface is missing.”

“The game pack is defective?” Maj asked.

“No. When a user logs on and downloads the outline programming from the game server, the missing files will automatically be patched in.”

“So why leave them out?”

“I don’t know,” Mark told her.

“The first thought,” Andy put in, “would be to conserve space on the game pack datascript. But that’s not an issue because the files are archived and fit easily in the space that’s provided.”

“And there’s the possibility that Eisenhower shaved production time off the game backs by not including all programming that downloads automatically from the Net.”

“But they could have simply issued a download site on the Net,” Maj said.

“Yeah,” Andy agreed. “But there’s nothing like putting a brightly colored box into a gamer’s hand. That’s total euphoria, and that’s why game companies haven’t gone totally online with releases.”

“Massive downloads can still be a problem online,” Mark said. “A corporation can stumble and fall and fail to provide for all the immediate demand by consumers.”

“All the more reason to produce a complete game pack and keep downloads short,” Maj said. A dragon drifted lazily across the sky above them, but it wasn’t Peter’s dragon. A thought struck her and she looked at Mark. “Did you try adding in the programming that the Net automatically adds?”

Mark nodded. “First thing. But there wasn’t any change in performance. No bleed-over anomaly.”

“Then how did it happen at the convention yesterday?” Maj asked.

Mark shook his head. “The only thing I can think of is that Eisenhower is going to upload some other files beyond the normal Net load.”

“They could blend that programming in with the Net upload, couldn’t they?” Maj asked.

“Sure, but the Net checks for viruses.”

The thought felt right and Maj stayed with it. “I don’t think we’re looking for a virus or a Trojan Horse, or a worm. What if it’s just part of the game programming?”

“Veeyars will accept it and won’t think twice.”

“Yeah,” Andy said, “but if the bleed-over effect can be canceled, why didn’t they?”

“Because maybe it’s not so easily canceled once the whole program runs,” Maj answered. “But I think it’s because Eisenhower and whoever is behind them want the bleed-over in there.”

“Why?” Andy asked.

“That,” Maj replied, “remains the big question.”

A knock at the hotel door woke Maj. Her head felt as if it had been packed with sawdust, and her eyes were too heavy to lift. She stumbled up from bed and pulled a robe on, then looked through the vid security plate. Leif stood out in the hallway. She let him in.

“Catch you sleeping?” he asked in a voice that was simply too cheerful to stand.

“It’s after midnight,” Maj said.

“So?” Leif was dressed in a fresh tux and carefully groomed, but his eyes looked glassy.

“You haven’t been to sleep yet?” Maj asked in disbelief.

“Things to do.” Leif dropped into a chair. “And I thought you’d want to be the first to know.”

“Know what?”

Leif grinned. “Who Eisenhower’s mysterious benefactor is.”

“Tell me.”

“Allow me my moment of drama,” Leif said. “After you gave me Fortress Games, I had my dad’s people start checking on them, find out who’d invested in them. There are generally a few players in any corporation. He turned up a string of shell companies that led back to a source. However, that started me thinking. The way my dad’s guy was able to find out who was behind Fortress Games was through the money manipulations. They crossed a dozen borders, nearly three dozen banks, and sixteen different governments.”

“Sounds complicated,” Maj said.

“Very complicated,” Leif agreed. “My dad hires some very good people, though, and Hendricks is one of the best. Anyway, I asked Hendricks to look back through other funds that had been funneled along the same routes, marking the dates as around the time Eisenhower got their healthy boost of vitamin cash.”

“Same source?”

Leif nodded. “Oh, yeah. Ever heard of D’Arnot Industries?”

“D’Arnot Industries,” Captain Winters said, “is a France-based corporation heavily invested in the production of munitions.” His holo stood in the center of the hotel conference room. A Net Force team had secured the premises, encrypting telecommunications that passed between all interested parties. The captain’s image blurred and his words sounded hollow occasionally because those telecommunications were being cached and sent as bursts, making them even harder to access over the Net.

Maj listened intently. During the hour it had taken Winters to arrange the meeting place, she’d done some research on D’Arnot Industries herself. The other Explorers and Roarke occupied chairs around the room.

“The corporation got its start back during the Cold War in the 1960s,” Winters went on. Slides and vid projected in the air as he spoke. “They produced small arms through most of the 1970s and 1980s. By the 1990s, when all the unrest started in the Russian satellite countries, they started producing tanks and attack helicopters as well.”

“It was a major corporation after 2002,” Leif said. “They made a bigger profit every year after that. They also invested heavily in software development.”

Winters nodded. “War makes for good business. It always has. However, D’Arnot traded freely with whomever they wanted, using shell companies to sell some of the goods they produced. There were times during the crises then that D’Arnot or their affiliates supplied both sides of a conflict.”

“You said they’re based in France,” Matt said. “That’s where Oscar said Peter Griffen stayed while he built his game.”

“After D’Arnot arranged the financial deal with Eisenhower,” Leif said. “We took a peek at Griffen’s passport. The dates all match up.”

“Then why aren’t we busting D’Arnot?” Andy asked.

“Because it’s not a crime to invest in another corporation,” Leif answered.

“They hid the money,” Andy protested.

“That’s suspect,” Winters replied, “but not criminal. So far, we’ve yet to uncover any malfeasance on D’Arnot Industries’ part.”

“What about Heavener?” Maj asked.

“We can’t prove that she works for D’Arnot.”

“What about her passport?” Catie asked. “Has she been in France lately?”

“It depends,” Winters said, “on which passport you’re looking at, under which name, or which intelligence report on her movements you want to believe. The woman is a ghost.”

“Even if we had anything against her, kid,” Roarke said, “we’d have to find her. I’ve got a feeling that’s not going to be easy.”

“As many people as she’s had on the scene here,” Winters said, “she’s got a local base of operations. I’ve got security teams going through records on this area and the surrounding counties. If they can be found that way, we’ll have them.”

“What about a Net Force team?” Roarke asked.

“I’ve got one in-bound,” Winters said.

“There are local guys,” Roarke pointed out.

“And they’re all tied up, Agent Roarke,” Winters said with the steel in his voice that Maj had seldom heard before. “I need a team here who has worked together before, not one cobbled together on a moment’s notice.”

“I’m just saying maybe we should get these kids out of the way.”

“I don’t think these young women and men are in any danger here, and to enforce that belief I want you to stay with them.”

Maj could tell by the look on the agent’s face that the assignment didn’t sit well.

“They also serve who baby-sit,” Roarke grumped.

“Agent Roarke,” Winters said, “at another time, you and I will discuss that point of view regarding my people. At length.”

“Yes, sir.”

Winters turned his gaze back to the Explorers. “Pulling you people out of the convention after Heavener knows who you are might be safe, but it could also tip our hand. It would be better if they thought this meeting was over the ongoing investigation regarding Peter Griffen’s disappearance. If you vanish, they’re not going to believe that.”

All the Explorers agreed.

“However, if any of you want to leave, you’re free to do so.”

No one took Winters up on the offer.

“I think we’re safe here, sir,” Maj said. “Besides, you may have a Net Force team on-site, but they can’t move until you prove a crime has been committed by D’Arnot Industries.”

“Heavener has a record under two other aliases,” Roarke said. “D’Arnot must not have known that.”

“Or they chose to ignore it,” Winters agreed. “A female agent is overlooked a lot in this field.” The captain paused for a moment. “She is their weak link. We’ve got six hours and thirty-seven minutes till Eisenhower Productions goes online with Realm of the Bright Waters.”

“If we find Heavener before that time,” Roarke said, “we can bring her in, sweat her, and see if she’ll give anything up to make a deal. No one’s going to look after her interests, and she knows it.”

Maj looked at the neutral expression on Roarke’s face and knew the man was talking from personal experience.

“Agreed,” Winters replied. “Net Force Explorers, make the most of these remaining hours. Keep your eyes and ears open, and stay in contact with each other. If the slightest thing feels off, get out and call me at once.”

Gaspar Latke sat in his veeyar workspace, for the first time in his life feeling crowded in by everything around him. He watched the monitors.

The central monitor showed the hallway outside Maj Green’s hotel room. The image was broadcast by a buttoncam worn by one of the three men Heavener had with her.

“Shut down the alarms,” Heavener ordered over the comm-line.

Gaspar’s breath was tight in his chest, and the back of his throat felt raw. He knew those were physical sensations seeping over from the flesh-and-blood world. He drew a circle in the air with his forefinger, and a blue knob appeared, linking him with the virus he had in place to circumvent the hotel’s security system. He pressed it, sending it on its way. For the next twenty-two minutes and nineteen seconds, the hotel wouldn’t know the room existed.

“Done,” he hissed, feeling like a traitor. Forgive me. I thought maybe we could help each other. Only he’d put her in danger by meeting with her.

One of Heavener’s people moved forward and took a short crowbar from his jacket sleeve. They all wore street clothes and wouldn’t draw a second glance from the gamers still wandering the halls. The man fit the crowbar into place and popped the lock, shouldering the door open.

Heavener and the next man stepped through the doorway. Gaspar’s main monitor view was now through Heavener’s sights. Ruby laser beams tracked through the darkness filling the room.

For a moment Gaspar thought Maj was in bed. But as Heavener got closer, he saw that it was only the twisted bedclothes.

“She’s not here,” Heavener said irritably. “Find her. Find her now!” She waved the men from the room and closed the door behind her.

Gaspar’s relief drained from him as he started to scan the hotel vidcams he’d hacked into. “Searching.”

“In twenty minutes and thirty-four seconds,” Heavener said, “that little mojo you’ve used on this room is going to elapse and the alarm will sound. If we haven’t found that girl by then, she’s going to run, and Net Force may take a big interest too soon.”

“Give me a minute.” Gaspar searched through the hallways and banquet areas, using a computer search engine working with Maj’s image as well. The convention center was open, and he thought she might be there.

“Very soon,” Heavener went on, “the game goes online. I don’t have time to wait.”

An alarm buzzed.

Gaspar looked up, panicking.

“Eisenhower’s online site just registered a hacker,” Heavener said.

“I’ll check it out,” Gaspar said. Hackers trying to get into the system weren’t anything new. Ever since the gamepacks for Realm of the Bright Waters had been released, gamers had been trying to break into Eisenhower’s site. None of them had succeeded, but they’d kept him busy. Eisenhower’s regular security staff was good, but not as good as people Gaspar ran with, diehard hackers who lived for the crack.

Gaspar leaped onto the Net and sped to Eisenhower’s site. The building stood tall and prestigious against the cybernetic background. He passed into the secure files where the game programming was kept. The room representing the archived files was huge, filled with library stacks representing the various programs.

Gargoyles sat by the stacks, myth-shapen monsters with bat wings, long talons, and horrid faces. They’d dealt with intruders skilled enough to avoid the regular security system, casting them out of the Net nastily.

Suddenly one of the gargoyles turned to look at him. “Is it you?” it asked in a creaking voice.

Suspicion filled Gaspar and he almost lifted off-site. “Who are you?”

The gargoyle shimmered as it stepped off its pedestal. By the time its foot touched the carpet, it was Mark Gridley.

“You became part of the security network?” Gaspar asked. No one had ever done that before.

Mark shrugged. “It took hours, so don’t be too overwhelmed. I’ve been trying to get into the stacks, but they’re all encrypted. At least, the ones that I’ve been able to access are.”

Gaspar took a step back. “You tripped the alarm on purpose.”

“Yeah. I hoped you’d be the one to answer it.”

“Why?”

Mark waved at the stacks. “Because we’re running out of time. We know about Griffen’s game and the bleed-overs.”

“How much do you know?” Gaspar asked.

“Pretty much all of it,” Mark replied. “We know about D’Arnot Industries, too.”

“They’ll kill me.”

“When Maj told us she’d been contacted by someone wearing Matt’s proxy last night,” Mark said, “I guessed it was you. And the only reason you’d do that is if you wanted out.”

“I do.”

Mark nodded, his young face serious. “Then you’re going to have to play ball with us. I could break into this system given enough time — I’m that good — but I’m all out of time. Realm of the Bright Waters is going online, and by then it will be too late.”

“Get me away from them,” Gaspar said. “If you don’t, they’re going to kill me.”

“You think they’re going to kill you,” Mark said. “That’s why you contacted Maj.”

Gaspar didn’t say anything, feeling all his leverage drain away. “I need help.”

“And I need an access code,” Mark said.

“You can’t leave me to them,” Gaspar pleaded. “It would be the same as killing me yourself.”

Mark didn’t appear convinced. “Where are Peter Griffen and Oscar Raitt?”

“Heavener has them.”

“Where?”

“At the hotel. She’s going to kill them, set it up so it looks like Raitt killed Griffen after faking his own kidnapping.”

“When?”

Gaspar lied desperately. “I don’t know.”

Mark glanced around the room, but he never looked desperate. “It’s your call. Give me a code so I can get into the system and let me trace your signal back.”

“How can I trust you?”

Mark returned his gaze full measure. “How can you not? There’s a Net Force team in the city that’s ready to move. They just need a location.”

“I don’t know where I am.”

“We’ll find you.”

Heavener buzzed for attention, using the comm-channel Gaspar had left open for her and her team. Gaspar felt torn, knowing he was gambling everything when there was nothing left to lose, but feeling scared anyway. He closed his fist and downloaded the access code, creating a simple icon in the form of a red agate marble. “Find me quick,” he said. “Or you’ll find me dead.”

“Trust me,” Mark said. “I won’t let you down.”

Gaspar tossed the marble across. Mark caught it, then tossed a glowing blue pyramid back. “The trace utility?” Gaspar asked.

“Yes.” Mark reached forward and a control panel appeared in the air before him. He punched a button and the alarm shut off. “Get moving before they get suspicious.”

Gaspar tried to think of something to say but couldn’t. He leaped back onto the Net and returned to his workspace.

“What was it?” Heavener demanded.

“One of the gamers,” Gaspar replied. “He got deep into the system, but it rejected him.” Please let Gridley be as good as I’ve heard he is.

“Where’s the girl?”

Gaspar searched the screens. Suddenly crosshairs flared into crimson life on one of the convention monitors. They bracketed Maj Green as she passed through the early morning convention crowd waiting for Realm of the Bright Waters to go online.

Hesitation locked Gaspar up. How long will it take for Net Force to find me? How long before Gridley breaks into the mainframe supporting the online game? If he didn’t tell Heavener where Maj was, she’d know something was up. And he’d die. It was that simple. “She’s in the convention center,” he said. “I’ve got her onscreen.”

The buttoncam view on Heavener’s screen shifted abruptly as the woman and her team changed directions. As they raced through the hotel hallways, other cameras picked them up.

Gaspar tracked the collision course as if hypnotized. “God help us,” he whispered.