Virtual Vandals nfe-1

by Tom Clancy

  “I’ll be out of the groove by then,” Tommy mourned as he and James trooped out the door.

  “That game will always start right where you ended,” David promised. He shut the door, then glanced at Matt. “I don’t know why you don’t just go to Captain Winters and let the Net Force heavy-duty techs into the system,” he said.

  David was a friend, but even so, Matt didn’t want to tell him about the invasion of Sean McArdle’s veeyar — and the attack he’d barely managed to stop. After all, David’s father was in the police.

  “It’s getting very weird,” was all Matt finally said. “There may be a clue in my veeyar, but I don’t want to pick it up if the boss bad guy is able to see what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t see how I can help,” David began.

  “Your virtual explorer,” Matt interrupted. “With all the scanning stuff you’ve got in there, I figure you’d be able to check out my system from here.”

  Most boys Matt knew liked to design cool stuff on their computers. Matt had a couple of fantasy race cars that he designed, tinkered with, and even took out on fantasy drives. He was particularly fond of his souped-up Dodge Viper. David, however, had a different hobby. He developed spacecraft and exploring modules that worked as well as anything NASA had come up with — at least in veeyar.

  David looked a little surprised. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “But you’re right. We can set it to look for emission sources and unexpected energy concentrations, and work from there.”

  He opened a package of datascrips and inserted a blank into his computer. “I’ll make a copy of the probe first, just so we’ll know if it gets tampered with while it’s in your system.”

  He gave a series of orders to his computer, then turned to Matt with a grin. “Want to see how your veeyar looks from outside?”

  “I think you’d be better off if you just went by telemetry,” Matt warned.

  David frowned. “It’ll be a lot more clumsy,” he objected.

  “This guy makes bad things happen to people in veeyar,” Matt said. “If he’s set up something nasty in my system, I don’t mind risking your probe. You’ve got a copy right there.” He pointed to the datascrip on the computer desk. “But we stay as far away as possible.”

  “I guess you’ve got a point,” David admitted. He gave more orders to the computer, calling up all sorts of security subroutines.

  David gave Matt another grin. “When you’ve got two nosy kid brothers, you learn how to keep things under wraps,” he said. A few more orders set up holographic scales and gauges for the probe’s reports.

  “In we go,” David said, authorizing the telecommunications link.

  Matt stared at the gauges, but they told him nothing.

  “The good news,” David told him, “is that nothing’s happened. Your veeyar hasn’t been nuked or anything.”

  He pointed at a gauge. “But there are several outward energy leaks that wouldn’t occur in your garden-variety veeyar.”

  “So it is bugged,” Matt said.

  “Your guess was right.” David gave some orders to the probe. “Let’s see if we can get a better look—”

  He broke off, pointing at another gauge. “Whoa! Self-destruct! Not enough to hurt, even if you’d been in the veeyar. I think this guy just doesn’t want people checking out his work.”

  They spent some more time cleaning out a couple more of the Genius’s toys, including the Trojan Horse program that had allowed Caitlin Corrigan to come inside — and leave those little souvenirs behind.

  “Only one more out-of-place item left,” David reported. “There’s an alien icon on your work surface — a program that doesn’t belong.”

  “That’s the clue I was talking about,” Matt said. “Can your probe trigger it?”

  David gave orders. A few seconds later, he shrugged. “Looks like a ten-second voice clip. A message for you, maybe.”

  He continued to give Matt an odd look. “At least nothing blew up, buddy.”

  Half an hour later, Matt felt a little foolish climbing back through the window into his room.

  Better safe than sorry, he told himself.

  Stepping into the hallway, Matt went to the kitchen to get a glass of milk.

  “Still working?” his father asked.

  “Just about done, I hope,” Matt replied. He went back to his room and picked up the datascrip with everything he knew about the virtual vandals. Stepping to the door, he put it down in the hall. Then he went back inside and began giving orders to his computer. A scale model of his veeyar appeared over his desk. Matt moved over behind his bed, the only thing available to duck behind…just in case. Then he gave the order to trigger Cat Corrigan’s earring icon.

  “Matt, I’ve got to see you.” Caitlin’s voice came through a little tinny from the reduced-scale model. “It has to be in the flesh. No computers, no phones…no holograms — and soon.”

  Even with the substandard voice reproduction, she sounded scared.

  Matt stood very still, looking at his carefully constructed veeyar. Then he ordered his computer to erase the whole thing. Not just to delete the file, but to destroy all records of his workspace — and everything that had happened in there.

  The next morning, Matt took an earlier autobus to school. He knew that Cat Corrigan usually drove in, and she did this morning. Matt had to laugh to himself. He wondered if he’d stand out, changing his schedule. But Cat was much more attention-getting, swooping in to park in a classic Copperhead.

  Matt knew his cars. This thing had to be a good thirty years old. But old or not, he had to admit it was one hot car. What was she doing, tooling around in a machine like that?

  Well, one thing she did was distract anyone’s attention from Matt. But she also attracted about every car-crazy guy in the school. Matt had hoped for a couple of quick words with her before Prep period.

  Instead, he wound up standing at the edge of an admiring crowd.

  The whole class schedule seemed perversely set up to keep them from even bumping into one another. If Matt saw Caitlin in the mad dash between classes, it was usually at the far end of a hallway, heading in the opposite direction from where he had to go.

  He was hoping for a chance to catch up with her in the lunchroom, but as she came in, so did Sandy Braxton. “Hey, Matt! Great news! My father has some friends who are into battle reenactments.”

  In his research Matt had read about organizations where people got together, dressed in Civil War uniforms, and pretended to refight old battles. Since northern Virginia had seen major campaigns during the war, it wouldn’t be surprising that several of those clubs might exist in the Washington area.

  At another time, he might have been more interested to hear what Sandy had to say.

  Instead, Matt was wishing the floor would open up under the idiot. He was blocking the way to Cat Corrigan.

  “Anyway, they’ve got holos of their battles. They were actually up in Pennsylvania, and did a reenactment of Pickett’s Charge. I’ll have a copy tomorrow. We both have a Library period right after lunch — suppose I set things up with Dr. Fairlie so we can view it then.”

  “Yeah, fine,” Matt said in distraction, trying to step around Sandy. Caitlin was walking right by!

  She was carrying a portfolio full of datascrips and written notes. As she passed, a piece of paper slid loose. A note?

  Matt moved for it, but Sandy scooped up the paper in midair.

  “Hey, Caitlin! You lost this!”

  Cat turned and gave Matt an annoyed “get-with-the-program!” sort of look.

  Sandy handed over the sheet, reading it. “A classical guitar concert! Who goes to those things?”

  She rolled her eyes, every inch a Leet. “Oh, I know! I fouled up the printing menu on my computer, and this came out.”

  As Cat spoke, she crumpled up the paper. But she gave Matt a sharp look.

  Matt watched the balled-up wad fly into a garbage bin. He headed over that way, finally mana
ging to get rid of Sandy Braxton.

  He was in luck, retrieving the note before somebody dumped a tray of chili con mystery meat over it.

  Throughout lunch, the little wad of paper seemed to weigh in his pocket as if it were made of lead. Outside later, Matt walked over to a tree, leaned back against the trunk, and un-scrunched the paper.

  One side was a poster from the school’s music club, announcing a classical guitar recital for that afternoon.

  The other side was empty.

  Matt frowned. Was it a code? Could there be secret writing? He remembered reading something as a kid about lemon juice….

  He rested his head against the rough bark. No, the message was right in front of him. What better place to meet? The recital would take place in the auditorium, a large, dark room. And classical guitars wouldn’t need electronic or computer enhancement. Just old-fashioned fingers, old-fashioned ears — perfect!

  Matt arrived at the auditorium out of breath and slightly late. He slipped through the doors, standing in the rear of the seats, trying to let his eyes adjust. A serious girl sat on a chair in a pool of light, her fingers flying as a complicated rhythm filled the air.

  Where was Caitlin?

  The music ended, and golden hair suddenly flashed before Matt’s eyes as Caitlin rose from a back-row seat. She applauded, and as the girl left the stage, Caitlin brushed past Matt.

  A deft hand tucked another note into his shirt pocket. Then, without even seeming to see him, Caitlin left the auditorium.

  Matt sank into a seat, crossing his arms across his chest — and slipping out the note. He waited impatiently for the next piece of music to end — under the circumstances it seemed to take forever — and then left the auditorium, too.

  He walked to his locker, opened the door, and spread the note on top of his books. It simply said:

  SHERIDAN CIRCLE

  3:30

  He knew the place — it was one of the many traffic circles spread around Washington. It was a bit of a walk from Bradford. He checked his watch. He’d better move if he was supposed to be there by three-thirty!

  Matt reached Sheridan Circle with about half a minute to spare. He glanced around the wealthy neighborhood. Quite a few countries had their embassies in this area. If one of the virtual vandals should spot him….

  A second later, Matt knew why Caitlin had driven the Copperhead to school. The unmistakable shape of the classic car came whipping around the traffic circle. Caitlin pulled up, Matt jumped aboard, and then they whizzed round the rest of the circle and across the Buffalo Bridge into Georgetown.

  The girl was silent as she piloted the car through the local streets and then onto an expressway.

  “Well?” Matt said. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “We — the guys and I — are only supposed to meet through the Net. It’s supposed to be for protection — if nobody sees us together, we can’t be connected.” She glanced at Matt. “But I’m beginning to think it’s more of a control thing.”

  “So you wanted to break the rules, and you chose me because I can’t tell on you — I don’t know who to tell.”

  Cat’s teeth sank into her lower lip. “I–I wanted to explain some things. Maybe you look at us and think we have it made — the rich kids, living a glamorous life. Let me tell you something. After your tenth diplomatic party, they all start looking alike. You get…I guess the word is bored.”

  Her eyes were on the traffic ahead as she went on. “It’s not like we have families. My dad has been running for something as long as I can remember. I barely see him or Mom. Luc — I sometimes think his jokes are a way to get his parents to admit he’s alive. Gerry is over here because he got thrown out of most of the boarding schools in England. And Serge — he hates his father for getting into politics. It made him an ambassador, but it got his mother killed in the last round of troubles in the Balkans.”

  “Poor little rich kids, huh?” Matt said.

  “Make that dumb little rich kids,” Cat said bitterly. “Bored, angry, and suddenly we have a chance to act out our fantasies, like something in a comic book. Secret identities and everything.”

  “Except you weren’t superheroes, but villains.”

  “Get over it! We trashed a couple of veeyars. Anybody with a brain has a backup on datascrip. Kids with spray paint did more actual damage than we did.”

  “And the people who got hurt?”

  She sank a little in her seat. “That’s the dark side of the fantasy.” She glanced again at Matt, pleading with him to understand. “When you’re rich and pretty, lots of people want to do favors for you. I never saw the hook in this — and neither did the others. Serge and the Savage were amazed when they discovered they could deck people in veeyar — frankly, they got carried away.”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I saw what Savage did to Sean McArdle.”

  “That’s not the real Gerry. He’s lashing out with his fists because that’s all he knows about fighting the trap we’re caught in.”

  “Trap?” Matt echoed.

  “The person who set up our little game also set us up. We’re being blackmailed, Matt. For every trapdoor we leave behind to go visiting, we set two more that we’re not allowed to use.”

  “What do you mean, allowed?”

  Caitlin’s voice grew tight. “Ordered would be a better word. I don’t know what those trapdoors are being used for, but Gerry broke a major rule when he took us into Sean McArdle’s veeyar.”

  They were coming up on an exit near Matt’s house. Caitlin shifted lanes and pulled onto the exit ramp. She drove a couple of blocks, then stopped the car. “I told you all this because you’re not in too deeply yet. You can still walk away. Just go home and forget we ever existed.”

  “Maybe I could help you,” Matt said. “Do you know who’s giving the orders?”

  Caitlin pointed to the door. “Just go home, Matt. And be careful.”

  Matt was only picking at dinner that evening.

  “Isn’t your Net Force Explorers meeting tonight?” his mother asked as they finished.

  Matt nodded. The Explorers held a virtual meeting every month, either at regional Net nodes or the much larger chat room in the Net Force Washington computer. Matt really wasn’t in the mood to go. Then he thought about the Genius. If that shadowy figure was checking on him, the last place he wanted to be tracked to was Net Force.

  “I don’t think I’ll be going, Mom,” he said.

  “Too tired?” his father asked. “Maybe you took on too much, helping your classmate with that project.”

  “No, that’s okay,” Matt said, taking the dishes into the kitchen.

  The doorbell rang, and a second later, his father appeared, a half smile on his face. “A visitor for you,” he said. “I figured you’d want to get the suds off your hands. It’s a young lady.”

  Puzzled, Matt went to the front hall…to find Cat Corrigan chatting with his mother.

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in like this,” Cat said.

  “N-no,” Matt replied. “Want to go for a walk?”

  “Fine.”

  “Not too late,” Matt’s mother cautioned.

  As they walked away from the house, Caitlin’s polite-young-visitor act disintegrated. Her eyes were frantic as they walked down the street. “You said you wanted to help. I don’t know what you can do — what anyone can do.”

  “About what?” Matt asked.

  “Gerry,” Caitlin answered in a hoarse voice. “He’s dead. Hit and run, about half an hour ago.”

  Chapter 14

  Matt stared in shock. “Could it have been an accident?”

  The moment the words were out of his lips, he knew the answer, and said as much. “No, this was no coincidence.”

  “Not unless poor Gerry was the king of bad luck and poor timing,” Caitlin agreed. “And he wasn’t. This had to be some kind of hit.”

  “It’s just that I would have expected some kind of virtual revenge,” Matt
said. “Running somebody down with a car — that’s pretty cold.” He glanced at Caitlin. “And pretty final.”

  “I know.” Caitlin shuddered. “I thought maybe he’d get a warning, or some kind of punishment.”

  “I guess this guy never trained dogs,” Matt muttered.

  Caitlin turned to him. “What?”

  “It’s a line my uncle used to use. If you’re training a puppy and he piddles on the carpet, you don’t shoot him — that just wastes all the training that’s gone before.”

  “But there are other puppies,” Caitlin said harshly. “Four of us, including you. Maybe Gerald made himself expendable right when a possible replacement came along. Or,” she choked out, “maybe we’ve all become expendable.”

  Matt didn’t like the sound of that. “Whatever’s going on, it’s certainly gotten my attention,” he said. “But I need to know what’s happened before I can start to figure out what’s happening. Who’s pulling the strings on all this?”

  Caitlin let out a long sigh. “All right, I’ll tell you. It’s a guy who used to go to school with us. Maybe you remember him — Rob Falk.”

  Matt frowned. He had a fuzzy image of a tall, gangly kid, a sort of super-Dexter. High-water pants, shirt pocket bulging with pens, pencils, and computer stylos, wild hair always standing up in a cowlick, always working with the computers. Falk hadn’t been around in a while. Did he drop out or leave? There was something…Matt tried to reach for an elusive memory as Caitlin went on.

  “Rob was — well, a nerd. He used to call himself a nerd to the nth power. But he got me through bonehead computing, so he was useful. At the time, I thought he might have had a crush on me.”

  Caitlin laughed without any trace of humor. “To make a long story short, he did some work inside my system. What I didn’t know at the time was that he’d left a trapdoor. Then, sometime after he left Bradford, I found some program icons in my veeyar. There were some proxies, and a program that let me into all sorts of places through trapdoors. One day, after I’d scared the fertilizer out of one of my snooty classmates by turning her romance sim into a horror story, I came back to my system to find Rob waiting for me.