Shackled

by Ray Garton

"Well, you're sure missed, I can tell you that. I got hooked up with some moron who wants to be Michael Douglas in Streets of San Francisco. Anyway, I'm at the station right now, so I can't talk long. I was wondering if you could do me a little favor."

  "What's that?"

  "Ever heard of a woman named Dr. Deanna Brooks?"

  "Oh, yeah. One of them pop psychs."

  "Right. A child psychiatrist. She writes books, has a radio show. I kind of need to find her."

  "What, you got a problem with some kids, or something?"

  "Oh, no, nothing like that. In fact, it might be nothing at all. Kind of a long story, so I'll tell you later. Anyway, if you could do a little looking around — nothing inconvenient, just if you get the chance — and see if you can track her down, I'd really appreciate it. Here's the deal. She's just moved there, probably to set up a new practice, so that shouldn't be hard to find. If you can get her phone number, I'd sure be grateful."

  "Sure, I'll be glad to see what I can do. I can track her business application, get her residence, phone number, that kinda thing. But ... is this, um, something you're working on or is it ... something personal?"

  "Oh, it's a case, all right. A small one, on the surface. But I just keep thinking it might be something bigger than it seems. Don't ask me why. Just a feeling. Something's not right, something's ... out of shape, here."

  "Hey, you know what a big fan I am of those feelings of yours. They saved my ass a couple times, remember?"

  Roberts laughed.

  "Yeah, sure, I'll be glad to help if I can. If I come up with something, you want me to call you at home or work?"

  "Either. I'm on the same shift as always. Anytime, day or night. If you can't get me, leave a message."

  "So, are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or just leave me hanging while I look this doctor up?"

  Roberts told him the whole story of the two men and the dead dog.

  "Jeez, and I thought we got weird stuff down here."

  "Hey, weird stuff has replaced baseball as America's favorite pastime."

  They talked a moment longer, then Roberts cradled the receiver and leaned back in the chair. He locked his hands behind his stiff neck and craned his head back, closing his eyes tightly as he tried to work out some of the achiness. Then he sighed again and tried to relax.

  Something inside him felt a little better because of what he'd done. Maybe Shockley would track her down and Roberts could give her a call, this Dr. Brooks. And maybe he'd find out there was nothing at all unusual about that look exchanged by the two men in the apartment that night. At least, nothing that had anything to do with Dr. Deanna Brooks.

  Then again, maybe not ...

  PART NINE

  The Boy Wonder

  1

  Shortly before noon the next day, Bent, Coll, and Ethan Walker entered Lewis Garner's cluttered, dusty apartment just in time for lunch. Garner opened the door for them and was introduced to Ethan.

  "Coll didn't say you were coming, but you're certainly welcome, Mr., uh ... well, Reverend? Or — "

  Ethan smiled. "I'm a pastor, but please call me Ethan."

  Garner spun his chair around and wheeled ahead of them into the living room. "I've had guests in just about every line of work you could possibly imagine, but you're my first pastor. Not quite sure how to act around a pastor. I'm not religious at all, so if I offend you in some way, please accept my apologies in advance."

  Although his eyes looked weary, Ethan laughed heartily and said, "You just go on and act like yourself. I don't offend all that easily."

  Ethan took a chair as Bent and Coll seated themselves on the sofa. A tray of sandwiches, a large bowl of ridged potato chips, and three different kinds of dips were on the coffee table.

  Garner said, "When you told me you were coming, Coll, I fixed lunch. Drinks are in the fridge. But, of course, I didn't know you were coming," he added quietly, nodding toward Ethan, "and I sure hope you don't get the impression this was gonna be some kind of little party, or anything. I mean, I'm very sorry about, uh, your son, and I don't want you to think — "

  "Please don't worry," Ethan said. "I'd never think that. Besides, I understand you make the best sandwiches around."

  "Oh? Well, this is a new one. I've stuffed pita bread with chopped lettuce, tomatoes and celery, grated cheese, avocado and diced turkey breast, then topped it with a dollop of plain yogurt. I tried one and, frankly, I think it's my finest achievement so far."

  "Well, I don't want to appear greedy, but I'm hungry and it looks delicious." Ethan leaned forward and picked up a sandwich, a paper plate, a napkin, and took a big bite.

  Bent got soft drinks from the kitchen while Coll and Ethan told Garner all about Cotchell's reaction to their story and the unfinished upside-down cross on the maps.

  "You expected him to deputize you or something?" Garner asked Coll. "With the books you've written, I'm surprised he didn't have you shot on sight."

  "The reason we're here," Coll said, ignoring the crack, "is that we now know we're definitely on our own and we all agree that we're on to something. Something big. We figured if anybody could help us, you could."

  "Well, that depends," Garner said, joining his hands beneath his chin. "I have, at my fingertips, a great deal of information about a lot of everything, but I don't exactly do magic."

  "We're interested in computer networks," Bent said, putting a chip into his mouth and chewing.

  "What kind? You know how many there are out there? Everything from golf freaks and Star Trek fanatics to accountants and homosexuals, even homosexual accountants, and ...” He froze, mouth still open, and his eyes darted back and forth between Bent and Coll. "Oh, no, wait a minute, here. You're not thinking of ... well, after what we talked about ... you don't really want to, um — "

  "Satanists," Bent said. "That kind of computer network."

  Garner dropped his hands to the chair's armrests as one side of his mouth curled up into a look of distaste. He wheeled forward, grabbed a chip and dragged it deeply through the onion dip, plopped it into his mouth and chewed as hard as if it were a jawbreaker. For a moment he looked as if he were about to speak, but then grabbed another chip and scooped up some of the bean dip and started chomping on it.

  "Is ... is something wrong, Mr. Garner?" Ethan asked, genuinely concerned.

  Garner spun the chair around and wheeled rapidly over to one of his desks, then spun around again and faced them, a stem look on his face.

  "Ethan, I understand how desperate you must be to find your son," he said, turning to Bent. "And I understand that you have a story to write. And Coll, I understand that you're Bent's very good friend. But frankly — and I hope you'll excuse me, Pastor — you don't know what the fuck you're getting into."

  Bent, Coll, and Ethan began to speak simultaneously, but Ethan's clear, deep voice won out: "That's why we must learn. And that's why we've come to you. If you choose not to help us, I certainly won't hold it against you, but I wish you'd tell us right now so we can try to find someone else who will."

  Garner leaned his head back and sighed, scrubbing a hand down over his face slowly. When he looked at Ethan again, his eyebrows were high over his eyes and he said, "No disrespect, Pastor, but you're not gonna find anybody else who can help you like I can. Either I help you, or you're on your own. Really. And that's not my ego talking, that's my common sense, because most people in my business can walk around and go places and they have other things to do besides their work. I can't. And I don't."

  "He's right," Coll said quietly.

  "Then," Ethan said calmly, "what objection might you have to helping us find my son?"

  "My objection would be that if you plan to follow this particular path, you're liable to get yourselves killed. At least that might be what happens to you ... but as far as everyone else would be concerned, you'd just be gone! You'd vanish! You ... might just be ... no more," he said, spreading his arms. "I'm not sure I want to be a part of that."

>   "What if you were paid twice your normal fee?" Bent asked.

  Garner looked at him in shock. "What, I'm a hit man now? You're paying me to get you all killed!"

  Coll said, "Okay, then, just answer this one question. Do you have access to any of these networks?"

  Garner turned away from them and stared for a while at the comer of a desk. He twitched and fidgeted in his wheelchair, closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them and sighed, shook his head as if thinking silently to himself, then spoke rapidly, words spilling from his mouth.

  "Okay, okay, so I know this kid, he's just a kid, maybe nineteen, who uses a computer the way Jack the Ripper used to use a knife, know what I mean? He's a hacker and he can, break into anything, just about anything, and I use him a lot, he's always helping me out, but ... but ...” He stopped and covered both eyes with a hand.

  "But what?" Bent asked.

  "Well, I don't think there's a computer network or on-line system anywhere that he doesn't know about. If it's out there, then he's at least aware of it, and has probably gotten into it. He can break into any internet service provider and pose as someone else. And the computer systems of big businesses, banks, schools, including his own. Let me put it this way ... he looks at impenetrable computer networks the way farmers look at cattle. The kid's so confident, he's not afraid of anything. But knowing what might happen, I don't know if I could bring myself to ask him."

  "Then it's really that dangerous," Ethan said quietly.

  "Potentially. But I don't know. Like I told you guys — " He nodded toward Bent and Coll. " — from what I know about Satanists, I don't think it's a very good idea to get involved with them. At all."

  They were silent for a long time. Ethan held his sandwich, staring at Garner, and Bent and Coll sat on the sofa staring at their laps.

  Finally, Ethan took another bite of the sandwich, chewed a little, then said, "Mr. Garner, I can't speak for my two friends here, but if you think I'm not willing to risk some trouble, and possibly even my life, to find my son, you are terribly mistaken. Terribly mistaken," he said, shaking his head as he took another bite. "And, by the way, Mr. Garner, this is delicious."

  "Can you get your computer friend over here?" Coll asked.

  "Yeah, probably. He usually doesn't go too far from his computer. Still lives with his parents and never — "

  "How soon?"

  "I don't know. I'll have to call him."

  Reaching for a sandwich, Bent said, "Call him now ...”

  2

  Rob Henson was thin as a straw with gangly legs that looked like they might give out at any moment and arms that appeared too long for his body. He wore a dirty Star Trek T-shirt under a ratty denim jacket, a pair of old jeans, and battered sneakers with untied laces and unmatching socks — one white, one yellow. His hair was the color of dirt, fell to his shoulders, and looked as if it had not been introduced to a comb or brush since childhood. The lenses of his crooked horn-rimmed glasses were filthy and so thick that his eyes were magnified to look like an owl's, and beneath a shadow of a mustache, his upper front teeth stuck out over his lower lip just enough so they were always slightly visible.

  When Garner opened the door, Rob ambled in, slouching as he walked, fingers stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, shoelaces slapping on the floor around his sneakers.

  "Rob, my man," Garner said enthusiastically, closing the door behind him.

  Rob stood in the hallway, sporting half a grin as he looked around.

  "Hi, Garner, how's it goin'?"

  "Well, you know, nothing but work."

  "Oh? What kinda work this time?" He turned as Garner wheeled his chair down the hall. "You said you needed me for something, so I figured you were working on a new assignment. So, what is it?"

  "Well ... we'll get to that," Garner said. "I've got sandwiches and chips. I tried something new today."

  "Really? Cool! What's it — "

  Rob froze in the living room, staring at the three men. He looked embarrassed, suddenly pulled his hands from his pockets and folded his arms protectively across his thin chest. His rather pale face, spotted with a pimple here and there, blushed a pale red.

  "You didn't say you had company," he said quietly, timidly.

  "Rob, I want you to meet some friends of mine." Garner introduced him to Bent, Ethan, and Coll, told him to take a seat and start on a sandwich, then the others made small talk with him for a while, trying to break through Rob's shell of shyness and uncertainty, trying to put him at ease.

  Once Rob had loosened up a little and become more comfortable with the three strangers, the four of them told him the whole story. They told him everything, and Rob listened closely, a frown darkening gradually on his face as the story unfolded. He stopped them now and then, hesitantly, to ask a question, to clear up a point, but otherwise remained perfectly silent.

  Then they came to their reason for calling him and Garner took over, telling him what Bent, Ethan, and Coll wanted him to do.

  Rob was silent for a long time. He stared at his half-eaten sandwich awhile, then leaned back his head and frowned at the ceiling awhile.

  The others glanced back and forth from one to another as the silence in the room grew louder, and each of them was thinking almost exactly the same thing:

  He's not going to do it.

  Then Rob looked at Garner and asked with a shrug, "So, which one do you want to get into?"

  There was another silence, one of surprise this time, then all four men leaned forward with quiet sighs.

  "What do you mean, Rob?" Garner asked.

  "Well, there are a lot of 'em, y'know? Lots of different kinds. They're all Satanist networks, of course, but ... well, they're all different."

  "You mean ... you've tapped into these things before?" Bent asked.

  "Oh, yeah. Just for fun, sometimes. I get tired of a computer game or some bbs I'm on — I mean, bulletin board system — I'll start shoppin' around. Y'know they've got Nazi networks, too? I mean, white supremacists, racist skinheads, that kinda thing. And there are a couple networks for people called blood fetishists, too. Vampires, y'know? They really drink blood. They get off on that. Course, a lot of the things they say are in a kind of code sometimes, but if you spend enough time on it, you can get a pretty good idea what they're talkin' about." He looked around and saw that they were all staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips and a scared look passed over his face as he lifted both hands, palms out. "I mean, hey, I cut into these things just for, y'know, for kicks, but I'm not ... well, I'm not like that. I don't do it because I'm like them, I just do it because ... well, y'know, because they're weird and kinda funny and ... because they're there and I can."

  Garner cocked his head to one side. "You never told me anything about this before, Rob."

  "You never asked. When you ask me about something, I help you if I can. And I usually can, right?"

  Garner nodded.

  "But if you don't ask — " Rob shrugged, " — why should I bring it up?"

  Garner leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand over the top of his head. "Jeez, kid, sometimes you're so logical I'd kick you if I had a good leg."

  Ethan finished his sandwich, frowning as he chewed quickly, and dabbed a napkin over his lips. Then: "So, breaking into one of these networks is an easy thing to do?" he asked.

  "No, not for most people," Rob said. "In fact, for most people it's impossible. But I've been doing it a lot. I mean, it's just what I do," he said with a shrug. "I got shitty grades — um, s'cuse me, Pastor — lousy grades all through high school because all I did was play around with the computer."

  "You taught yourself to do all this stuff?" Bent asked.

  Rob gave another loose shrug. "Not even that, really. I just sort of ... knew. I don't know how to explain it. Like I was born with it, or something. Like some kids sit down to a piano for the first time and just start playin'. It just came naturally to me, I guess."

  Garner smiled and said, "Rob onc
e told me that if there'd been no such thing as computers in his lifetime, he'd probably have to invent them. Right, kid?"

  Rob bowed his head with a smirk and blushed again.

  "What about the dangers?" Coll asked. "Isn't it a little risky to break into those things?"

  "Sure, if you're not careful. Calls can be traced, the on-line hosts or security systems can figure out you're not supposed to be there, that sort of thing. Those networks are monitored pretty closely, especially the really bizarre ones like the Satanists and the Neo-Nazis, the pedophiles, the weird ones. But the most bizarre on-line system in the world isn't airtight. Not to me, anyway, far as I know. I just don't stay on very long at one time."

  Bent, Ethan, and Coll looked at him with a glint of awe in their eyes as he continued eating his sandwich.

  "So," Garner said, "will you do it?"

  "Usual fee?"

  "Of course."

  "Sure. But ... can I have something to wash this sandwich down with first?"

  3

  Once he'd finished his sandwich with a Dr Pepper, Rob went to the computer on one of Garner's two desks, cracking his knuckles absently as he seated himself. As he called his own computer to get the telephone numbers stored there, the others watched him with quiet amazement, except for Garner, who had seen it all before.

  He was a completely different person at the computer. His posture changed: he sat up straight and held his head high, with great confidence and ease in every movement ... the kind of confidence and ease that had not been present in the boy since he'd walked in the door.

  He looked at the screen, scribbled something on the notepad, dialed another number, and his fingers flew over the keyboard with the agility of a concert pianist. Then, as he slipped in a floppy disk, he looked over his shoulder and said, "You guys better come over here and look at this, let me know if you want me to log it, 'cause we don't wanna be on here too long."

  Like a crowd gathering around an accident, they rushed to the desk and looked at the screen. At first, their expressions were intense. But as their eyes scanned the words on the screen, they melted into masks of confusion within seconds ...