Mind-Altering Murder

Chapter Nineteen

Shawn was on his best behavior. When the streetwalker came up to them and asked if they wanted to party, Shawn knew that the correct response-the one that would add several rounds of ammunition to his cache-was to steal her money at gunpoint. Instead he politely declined and led O’Hara down the street.

Not that she was acting as squeamish as she had been the first time they’d entered the game together. She seemed to have accepted Shawn’s reasoning, and instead of being repulsed by what she saw, she took it all as a necessary part of his investigation. She still had qualms about committing the kinds of criminal acts needed to get ahead in Darksyde City, but Shawn was pretty sure that he’d seen a smile on her face when the pustulating wino tried to mug her and she blew him away with a blast from her semiautomatic rifle.

The first real test came when Shawn laid out his plan to lure Fawn Liebowitz to them. He’d acquired a pile of dynamite on an earlier level, and he was going to use it on the dam that held in the local reservoir. The ensuing flood would wipe out a whole neighborhood, but it was the one thing he hadn’t tried to get into that jewelry store vault. When he pitched her the idea Shawn studied O’Hara’s face closely-at least he studied the face of her avatar, but since the insides of the helmets were lined with tiny cameras to record and mimic the players’ facial expressions, he knew it was an accurate gauge of her mood-and she took it calmly.

But even when they were actually laying the dynamite at the foot of the dam, Shawn wasn’t sure he’d won her over to his side. As Shawn taped three sticks to the concrete and set their fuses burning, a man’s voice shouted, “Stop there!”

Shawn turned slowly to see a security guard emerging from the darkness, pointing an enormous pistol at him. Shawn reached for his own gun, but before he could raise it the guard shot it out of his hand.

“That was a warning,” the guard said. “Next one goes right through you. So do the hundred after that. Get the picture?”

“Got it,” Shawn said. “What do you want me to do?”

“That depends,” the guard said.

“On what?”

“On how much you piss me off,” the guard said. “If you’re nice, all I want you to do is die. But if you make me really mad, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you suffer the agonies of the damned.”

“That sounds like fun,” Shawn said, “but I’m kind of in a hurry. So I think I’ll pass.”

“Then die,” the guard said, raising his gun.

There was no time for Shawn to grab one of his own weapons. He took a step backward, fumbling blindly behind him with one hand. At first there was nothing but concrete. And then he felt the cold, hard tube. Shawn closed his fist around the stick of dynamite and yanked it away from the face of the dam, then hurled it at the guard.

Just as the dynamite left his hand, Shawn heard O’Hara’s voice screaming at him. “Shawn, no!”

Let her be horrified, Shawn thought. If she couldn’t stand the thought of the guard spattering down on her like red rain, she should have stayed on her side of the dam. This was business, after all.

But if O’Hara was horrified she wasn’t showing it. She whipped out her own gun and got off one shot. Thanks to the time-altering effect of the software, which slowed down the entire world from the moment a gun was fired until the bullet found its mark, Shawn was able to watch the projectile fly through the sky until he realized where it was heading-directly toward the dynamite.

Shawn dived to the ground just before the bullet struck the stick. Even so, he felt the blast wave slam him into the dirt. When he could finally get back on his feet he saw the security guard lying on his back and O’Hara standing over him with her pistol pointed at his head.

“Nice shooting,” Shawn said. “What was the point?”

“The point was not letting you kill the guard,” O’Hara said.

“That’s a nice sentiment, but it kind of leaves us with a problem,” Shawn said. “Because the instant you take your gun off that guy, he’s going to pop up and kill us both. Believe me, I’ve played this game long enough to know exactly what kindness and gentleness get you.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. Shawn had played the game long enough to have learned this lesson. He didn’t actually know how goodness would be rewarded only because he’d never actually tried such a tactic.

“I’m not being nice,” O’Hara said. “But if I let you kill this guard we’d never get out of this damn game.”

“We can leave whenever we want, Jules,” Shawn said patiently. “Even if we get caught and thrown in jail, we’ve just got to take off our helmets.”

O’Hara sighed impatiently. “Look at the guard,” she said. “What do you see?”

Shawn did as he was instructed. “It’s a security guard,” Shawn said. “Standard-issue in this game, right down to the beard stubble and the paunch.”

“What about the uniform?”

Shawn looked a little more closely. “It’s got the usual stains from coffee drips and doughnut crumbs, but it’s a little less wrinkled than some other ones I’ve seen in the game,” he said after some study.

“Yeah, there’s that,” O’Hara said. “Nice level of creativity with the cops eating doughnuts, by the way. Really raises my opinion of the programmers. But I was more interested in the buttons.”

Shawn looked again. The buttons on the uniform shirt were standard plastic, with four holes for the thread to pass through. There was absolutely nothing special about them, no markings, no color, no insignia. He was about to say something to that effect when he realized what O’Hara was talking about.

“They’re on the left side,” Shawn said. “That’s not a shirt-it’s a blouse.”

“And unless the security guards here are all cross-dressers…” O’Hara said.

She didn’t have to finish. Shawn bent down over the security guard and grabbed him by the crew cut. “Hello, Fawn,” he said.

Shawn gave the guard’s scalp a tug and it tore off in his hand, leaving a jagged hole in his head. Inside, Shawn could see Fawn Liebowitz’s long brown hair. He grabbed a piece of loose skin and tore down the guard’s body. It ripped an opening all the way down, like the easy-open string on a twenty-pound bag of doggie kibble, and then the guard’s body melted away, leaving the familiar form of Fawn Liebowitz behind.

“This is the one we’ve been looking for, right?” O’Hara said.

“Detective Juliet O’Hara, meet Fawn Liebowitz,” Shawn said, giving the student a nudge with his foot. “Fawn, Jules has some questions for you. Although if you’d like to settle this with a hot-oil wrestling match, that would be okay with me.”

“Hello, Fawn,” O’Hara said. “You know what we want from you, don’t you?”

The student stared up at her, impassive.

“That’s how you talk to a student?” Shawn said. “Or is that the special language women use with each other?”

“I’m just getting started,” O’Hara said.

“My name is Fawn Liebowitz,” Fawn said. “I’m a student at Darksyde University. My major is library science.”

“We know that, Fawn,” O’Hara said. “I’m looking for information. Please.”

Shawn looked down at Fawn and saw that she was reaching into her backpack. It couldn’t be this easy. How could he not have thought of something so basic? There was only one possible answer-it was Gus’ fault. All the years they’d been in the detective business, he’d let Gus handle all the intellectual issues like dealing with museum curators and college students because Gus liked talking to that kind of person. And Shawn had gotten out of practice. Thank God he was on his own again.

“Are you telling me it never occurred to you to ask her nicely for the information you needed?” O’Hara said.

“It was on my list of things to try,” Shawn said.

“Uh-huh,” O’Hara said. “And it never made it to the top because?”

Shawn glanced down at Fawn again. “Maybe because of that,” he said.

O’Hara followed his gaze and saw that Fawn’s hand was coming out of the backpack, holding a fist-sized green oval marked with striations. And it was ticking.

“Grenade!” O’Hara shouted.

Shawn took a step forward and kicked the grenade like he was trying for a game-winning field goal. It soared through the air and exploded in a fireball over the dam.

“Do you have any other brilliant ideas?” Shawn said.

“I’m thinking!” O’Hara said.

“That’s a plan,” Shawn said. “One strategy this game really rewards is standing around doing nothing. You get to learn all sorts of new and exciting ways to die that way.”

“You worry about the threats, I’ll deal with the girl,” O’Hara said. “You’re such an expert murderer by now, I’m sure there’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“Absolutely nothing,” Shawn said. “Except maybe for that.”

He pointed up at the dam. Directly under the spot where the grenade had gone off, a spiderweb of cracks was crawling across the concrete surface.

“That’s not fair,” O’Hara said.

“Now you’re learning,” Shawn said. “So maybe you could speak to our friend before the Shawnstown flood begins.”

O’Hara cast another glance up at the dam and saw how quickly the cracks were spreading, then turned back to Fawn Liebowitz. “Have you considered rushing Pi Phi? Because I’m sure they’d love to have you.”

“You’re kidding,” Shawn said.

“Did you try asking her about sororities?” O’Hara said. “That can be an important part of a college girl’s life.”

“Well, unless Al-Qaeda’s got a branch at Darksyde U, I don’t think she’s interested in social organizations,” Shawn said.

While Shawn and O’Hara had been arguing, Fawn had reached into her backpack again and come out with a metal briefcase.

“Now what?” O’Hara said.

“My guess is it’s a suitcase nuke,” Shawn said.

“An atomic bomb?” O’Hara said, incredulous. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Shawn grabbed the briefcase out of Fawn’s hands and gave it a shake. It started to tick loudly.

“And the bar is raised,” O’Hara said. “The suitcase nuke is no longer the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. A ticking suitcase nuke is even dumber. Nuclear bombs simply do not tick.”

“Everything in this world ticks when it’s about to blow up,” Shawn said. “Ten ticks and you’re done.”

“Then get rid of it!”

Shawn hurled the briefcase down the hill. It bounced on its corners three times, then came to a stop.

“That’s it?” O’Hara said.

“Two more ticks,” Shawn said. “One-”

The briefcase exploded in a blinding flash, and then a miniature mushroom cloud.

“Now what?” O’Hara said when her ears stopped ringing. “Are we going to die of radiation poisoning?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Shawn said.

“You sure about that?” O’Hara said. “The sick bastards who designed this thing seemed to think of every other possible torture.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Shawn said. “It’s just that we’re not going to live that long. Look.”

He pointed back at the dam. The nuclear explosion had accelerated the spread of the cracks and now they were wide enough that water was beginning to trickle through.

“This is so not fair,” O’Hara said. “Why did I let you talk me into coming back into this damn, dumb game?” O’Hara said.

“Because you said you knew how to solve the puzzle,” Shawn said.

“And I would if you’d let me think,” O’Hara said.

“There’s no time for that,” Shawn said.

There was a thunk as a chunk of concrete from the dam landed at their feet, nearly taking off Fawn Liebowitz’s head. Water blasted through the hole it had left behind, and more concrete was crumbling under the pressure.

“Come on, Jules. We’ve only got seconds left,” Shawn said.

“I’m trying!”

“Try harder!” Shawn shouted over the roar of the water.

“Will you be quiet and let me think?” she said, but her words were lost as the concrete in the dam began to crack apart.

“What?” Shawn said.

“Quiet!” she yelled.

The water was rushing under their feet now. In another few seconds the dam would give way completely and they’d be swept away in the flood, drowned or pulverized or eaten by sharks. In other words, Shawn thought, another disaster.

He looked down, expecting to see Fawn Liebowitz grinning up at him as she always did right before he died. But Fawn wasn’t smiling. She was twitching and shaking and blue smoke was coming out of her ears.

“You did it, Jules,” Shawn shouted triumphantly. “Do it again!”

“Do what?” O’Hara said.

“I kept thinking of her as a college student and a woman,” Shawn said. “I didn’t realize that what’s really important is what she’s studying. She’s a librarian.”

Now O’Hara understood. She kneeled down by Fawn and yelled in her smoking ear. “Quiet!”

At the command, the student stopped shaking. The smoke stopped coming from her ears. She reached into her backpack again.

“Get back!” Shawn shouted, feeling disappointment flooding through him even more strongly than the water was coming out of the dam.

“Not this time!” O’Hara said. “You be ready in case she tries something.”

The water was up to their knees now and it was getting hard to stand against it. Shawn braced himself as the librarian slowly pulled her hand out of the backpack.

“I see something!” O’Hara said.

It was long and straight. Shawn was so prepared to see a weapon it took him a few seconds to realize that what was coming out of the backpack was actually a book.

“Grab it, Jules!”

O’Hara reached out and got one hand on the book and then the other. She gave it a yank and it came free.

“I’ve got it!”

There was no answer. O’Hara looked up, but Shawn was gone. So was the dam. The last thing she saw was the gigantic wall of water crashing down on her.