Gameprey nfe-11

by Tom Clancy

“It had to,” Gaspar said irritably. Everyone knew that the game’s programming only affected local computer systems.

  “We want you back online. We want her computer scrubbed.”

  “Scrub it if you want,” Gaspar said, “but she’ll still talk.”

  “No,” Heavener said calmly, “she won’t. We have people on-site there.”

  A chill even stronger than the air-conditioning filled Gaspar. He knew D’Arnot Industries had no qualms about killing, but he’d never been part of it himself.

  “Find her,” Heavener commanded, “and scrub any archived computer files she may have saved online.”

  Gaspar reluctantly pushed himself from the implant chair. As soon as he tried to stand, his knees buckled, refusing to take his weight. A fresh wave of perspiration covered him as he caught himself on his hands, just saving him from hitting the floor with his face.

  Heavener cursed and crossed the room immediately. She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Don’t give up on me now, you little piece of feek.”

  Gaspar felt hot tears filling his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so close to total exhaustion. The last few days he wasn’t sure if he’d slept or not. D’Arnot Industries had wanted him pulling twenty-four-hour surveillance on Peter on the Net, and Peter worked incredible hours. But Peter Griffen was healthy and didn’t have other assignments that D’Arnot Industries wanted from him.

  Heavener dragged Gaspar to the other implant chair and unceremoniously threw him into it. “Get online. Find the girl and scrub her computer.”

  Gaspar’s stomach rolled sickeningly. He retched, but only a thin, sour drool leaked down his beard-stubbled chin.

  “Latke,” Heavener barked, “now! We don’t have time to waste!”

  Raking the sour drool from his chin with the back of his arm, Gaspar lay back in the lineup chair. His implants touched the laser beam connectors. He felt the familiar buzz, started to enter his veeyar, but saw the cluttered room suddenly fade away before he could seat himself at the desk. He tried twice more, but each time the veeyar faded away.

  Heavener stood at his side. “What’s wrong?”

  With a quivering hand, Gaspar pointed out the chair’s vital signs readout. “My current level of anxiety, stress, and health are dangerous. The chair won’t allow me on the Net until my vitals are within the tolerance limits.”

  “Then we’ll beat the vital signs readout.” Heavener took a slim case that Gaspar had never seen from her pocket. She opened it, revealing three slim hypodermics neatly held inside. She took one of them from the case, popped the protective sleeve covering the needle, then depressed the plunger to make sure there was no air inside.

  “No!” Gaspar croaked.

  Heavener popped him in the throat with her elbow, causing him to gag. “Lie down.”

  Hypnotized by the hypodermic, Gaspar grabbed the arm holding him down but wasn’t able to leverage her off him. She forced him back into the implant chair and the automatic formfit feature kicked in, shrinking the chair around him. The pip-pip-pip of the vital signs rejection echoed in the big room.

  “No,” he gasped. “Please.”

  Heavener’s cold, amber cat’s eyes shone as she looked into his. “You’re alive only as long as you remain useful. You’d do well to remember that.” Her hand flashed forward, and he felt the needle pierce the side of his neck.

  A warm lassitude drifted through Gaspar’s body. In seconds he felt removed from his body, even more distant than going online left him.

  But inside he was still screaming.

  The pip-pip-pip rejection from the implant chair slowed, then quit.

  “Find the girl,” Heavener commanded harshly over the audlink. “Find the girl or no one will ever find you.”

  “Sure,” Gaspar replied. He didn’t care. She didn’t matter to him. Nothing did. He was on the Net, and for the moment he was as free as he ever got. Seated behind the desk in the cluttered room of his veeyar, he launched himself onto the Net and streaked for the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel.

  3

  Matt Hunter grew more frantic as the vidphone connection failed to complete.

  “Attempt failed,” the computer reported. “Would you like to retry or report failure to BellNet?”

  “Run diagnostics,” Matt said.

  “Compliance. Diagnostics running.” A menu screen popped into view inside the vidphone screen. “Systems parameters meet established criteria. Would you like to retry the number or report failure to BellNet?”

  Matt didn’t feel as if he had time to go through the automated services of the Net phone company. Even as fast as they were, he knew he could work faster. He punched Mark Gridley’s number. Despite the fact that it was one o’clock in the morning in Maryland, the Squirt would be up and online somewhere.

  “Attempt failed,” the computer said. “Would you like to retry or report failure to BellNet?”

  Matt’s mind raced. If the vidphone system checked out but he still couldn’t call out, that left only one option: Someone was shutting him out of the link. “Examine systems for virus.”

  “Diagnostics reveal newly installed programming,” the computer reported. “It doesn’t appear detrimental to this system.”

  Yeah, well, an effective virus won’t appear detrimental to an ops system, Matt thought. “Open access.”

  “Compliance.” The screen overlying the vidphone menu enlarged and the surface rippled.

  Matt stood and placed a hand on the screen. The sensory input from the screen made it feel slightly chill and damp. When he drew his hand back, the surface tension clung to him. Taking a deep breath, he plunged through.

  On the other side of the access panel, he spotted the configuration for the vidphone uplink. Thick cables covered a wall to his right, leaving the rest of the large cinderblock room undisturbed.

  How long had it been since he’d been dumped out of the Net? Maj was on her own until he found a way to get help to her. Catie Murray was at the same hotel. Catie was another Net Force Explorer and Bradford Academy student and friend.

  But the vidphone had to be operational before Matt could get word to her.

  Accessing his operating-system tools, Matt stretched his hand out. Immediately a flashlight formed along his forearm, spurting out a wide-angled beam. He played it over the wall where the cables were. The shadows slithered away.

  He stepped forward. The programming for the vidphone didn’t actually look like the confusion of cables protruding from the wall, but that was how his computer operating system rendered them in veeyar.

  Tiny green-shelled bugs moved among the cables, rerouting the interfaces so they constantly fed back into themselves. Receiving a signal from BellNet was no problem from this end, but getting out was impossible.

  “Analyze,” Matt ordered. Instantly the flashlight changed into a triangular device that fit comfortably in both his hands.

  Slipping a virus along the BellNet lines was all but impossible. Whoever had tagged him with it knew a lot about Net systems. But who would try to shut him down? And why?

  The triangular analyzer came up with a virus purge code in seconds. Mark Gridley had few equals in writing code. “Purge.” The triangular analyzer reconfigured itself into a pump mister. He squeezed off a burst, and white powder drifted down over the virus.

  As soon as the power touched them, the green-shelled bugs went into a frenzy, crawling along the various cables. Even as they were going on retreat, two cables suddenly snapped their moorings and shot at Matt.

  He twisted and backed away, dodging the sudden strike. A brief image of a mechanical snake’s head ghosted through his mind. He twisted and dodged again, completing a back flip that narrowly brought him out of range of the second mechanical snake as it plunged through the yellow octagon marking time.

  Realization that the virus had come encoded with its own protection crystallized in Matt’s thoughts. Something as well put together as the virus was, I should have been expecting t
his, he chided himself.

  He started for the door only to see it slam shut. Dim shadows on the wall slithered and danced, closing in on his shadow. He leaped over another attack. Hard, cold metal rasped along his leg. In real time the impact would have broken his leg, but in veeyar it only knocked him from his feet.

  He lifted his right wrist, aiming Mark’s tools package at the closest mechanical snake. “Analyze.”

  The cable-snake waved from side to side as it rose to its full height. A liquid hiss squeezed from between the distended jaws. Saliva dripped from the snake’s mouth, filled with bouncing electrical particles that sparked and spun.

  Code strands spun on the triangular device’s screen, then locked in as the cable-snake struck again. The open mouth flashed at Matt.

  “Purge!” The analyzer morphed from the triangular device to a quicksilver glove that oozed over Matt’s right arm. The wicked snout of a firearm protruded from his fist. He fired and a sea-green burst of laser light hit the cable-snake.

  The light disintegrated the cable-snake’s head in a white-hot explosion. The second attacker ripped through the shadows, moving too quickly for Matt to target. He rolled and came up firing. A cloud of sizzling sparks ignited around the cable-snake, and it vanished a heartbeat later.

  Breathing heavily, Matt surveyed the room. Nothing moved except the tiny green-shelled bugs. He switched back to the first antivirus program and hosed them down. The tiny bugs dropped to the cinderblock floor with metallic tinks.

  Matt stepped back through the access screen and into his veeyar again just as the comet slammed into the ground and left a crater nearly an eighth of a mile across. Returning to the black marble slab, he touched the vidphone and repeated his request for the number and room at the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel.

  The phone rang and Matt waited tensely.

  Gaspar Latke walked through the virtual doors of the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel and covered himself in the SHEPPARD, TED proxy. His head felt curiously full, but he didn’t care.

  He crossed the lobby and opened the computer interface at the desk. After bypassing the security, he brought up the Net access records, looking for the access port that had crossed over into Peter’s veeyar.

  The guest list scrolled under his finger as he touched the screen, complete with Net access records. Public housing kept excellent records. They had to so they wouldn’t get implicated in any wrongdoing that took place under their roofs. They also held the right to block access to all records until handed a court order.

  The guest record stopped moving when the search criteria were met.

  Gaspar read the name out loud. “Green, Madeline. Fifth floor, room five eighteen.” He closed the guest records and touched the vidphone link, punching in the room number.

  The phone rang at the other end of the connection. When it was answered, Gaspar relaxed his virtual body’s cohesiveness and flowed into the vidphone link.

  The vidphone drew Maj’s attention as she blinked her eyes open in the implant chair. She sat up and quickly checked her surroundings. The hotel room, complete with desk and chair, king-sized bed, chest of drawers, and computer, looked much more welcoming than when she’d first arrived that afternoon.

  She punched the vidphone and brought the connection online. The taglines on the screen let her know the call was coming from inside the hotel. I wouldn’t be surprised if that bleed-over attracted the attention of the house detectives, she thought. She grabbed her foilpack from the bed so she’d have her Net Force Explorer ID handy and turned to the vidphone.

  The screen came up briefly, just a flicker that showed the mural behind the check-in desk downstairs. Then it closed.

  “Weird,” Maj said, disconnecting. “Though not the first weird thing I’ve seen tonight.” She thought about Matt then, wondering if he’d gotten out of the veeyar in good shape.

  The vidphone rang again.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you all right?” Matt’s voice would have sounded calm to most people, but Maj knew him well enough to hear the tension in his words.

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I survived. Have you figured out what just happened?”

  “Someone crashed my veeyar and invaded my system,” Maj replied. “Unless you have any other ideas.”

  “No. Although I think the guy on the dragon wasn’t the only person online.”

  “You’re talking about the demonoid.” Maj had already reached the same conclusion. “The question is, did the demonoid invade my system or the dragonrider’s?”

  “My vote is for the dragonrider. I find it interesting that the demonoid concentrated on us rather than the dragonrider. Maybe the demonoid was there to protect him.”

  Maj considered that, relying on the intuition that usually let her get to the bottom of problems. She’d been told her skills at recognizing the underlying conflicts in situations involving people and events were sometimes uncanny. “I didn’t get that feeling.” She glanced at the computer, watching as the files cycled through. “I’m going back in.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “No.” Maj climbed back into the implant chair. She felt anxious, ready to get off the vidphone and find out what was going on. She kept flashing on the confusion and concern that had filled the dragonrider’s face. He didn’t know. He had no clue I was going to be there. Eyes that blue can’t hide the truth. She shook her head at herself. And maybe you’re getting too mushy. “I’m sending two files your way. One of them is an audio file of our communication with the dragonrider. See if you can get it interpreted.”

  “Leif,” Matt responded without hesitation.

  “That’s where I’d start,” Maj agreed. Leif Anderson was skilled in a number of languages. He’d definitely be able to get them down to a short list of possible dialects if he couldn’t translate the transmission himself. “I’m also sending a copy of the Net address. I thought Mark could trace it.”

  “I’ll get it over to him.”

  “I’ve got to go,” Maj said.

  “Don’t keep me waiting,” Matt said. “Get in and out quickly. And if Mark can find you, we may be along.”

  “I will.” Maj lay back in the implant chair and felt the teeth-tightening buzz of connection. She let out a deep breath, then jumped into the Net.

  She experienced a moment of freefall, saw the cerulean blue sky splash into place around her, then fell. The Striper formed around her, drawing together in a sparkling pattern that hardened into a ceramic and steel shell. The wind’s battering force went away as the familiar feel of the jet’s internal vibration filled her. She gripped the stick and kicked the thrusters in.

  Since the instruments didn’t acknowledge the dragon’s presence, she whipped her head from side to side, hoping to spot the creature or its rider. Her optimism dropped immediately when she saw the craggy desert below instead of verdant forest.

  Where had the dragonrider gone? Maj continued searching, knowing that wherever he was, he was definitely in some kind of trouble. She wondered if he knew it.

  Nervous energy filled Gaspar as he looked down at the girl in the implant chair. He stood in Maj Green’s room, dressed in a shimmering, blue leather bodysuit that symbolized the masking utility he used to evade the room’s sensors. The room was equipped with holo projection equipment that would allow a Net visitor to virtually drop in on Maj, actually sit on the furniture like they were there.

  The masking utility was one of his own programs and allowed him to enter the room and observe without being seen. The program also allowed him to interact with the room’s holo projection programming to access the veeyar in operation in the room. He couldn’t control the individual veeyar, but he could ride along.

  He gazed down at the girl, thinking that she was pretty. Her brown hair was pulled back in a braid, and she was dressed in jean shorts and a red knit shirt. She went shoeless, relaxed in the room.

  “Query status: finished,” a computer voice whispered in his ear. Even thoug
h he was in the girl’s room, he knew the masking utility would keep her from hearing the exchange.

  “Report,” Gaspar commanded.

  “Green, Madeline, age seventeen,” the computer said without inflection. “Brown hair, brown eyes.” It continued with the particulars from the Virginia Department of Motor Vehicles, adding her address in Alexandria, Virginia.

  She’s younger than I am, Gaspar realized with a start.

  “Her father, Martin Green, is a tenured political science professor at Georgetown University,” the computer went on. “Her mother is Rosilyn Green, owner of a computer business. She has one older brother, Rick, and a younger sister, Adrienne. Madeline Green attends Bradford Academy, where she is an honors student pursuing studies in—”

  “Enough,” Gaspar said. He didn’t need to know everything about her, and probably he already knew too much. So did Heavener.

  He placed his hand on the lineup chair and sensed the data flowing through the connectors. At present the girl was accessing her own veeyar and the Net, but she was also open to the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel’s programming through the telecommunications uplink she was using. With the mask utility in place and the parameters he’d adopted, Gaspar was part of that programming.

  “Where are you?” Heavener demanded over the audlink.

  “In her room.”

  “What is she doing?”

  “She’s back in her veeyar.”

  “Why?”

  “I assume she’s looking for Peter.”

  “She won’t find him.” Heavener’s voice sounded uncertain.

  “I don’t think so.” Gaspar wished he could leave the room, could leave the girl alone.

  “Make certain she doesn’t find him,” Heavener ordered. “Scrub the files you can from inside the system. I’ve got a team en route to the room.” She disconnected before Gaspar had time to reply.

  He felt sorry for the girl then. He knew what Heavener’s team would do when they arrived. Silently, knowing she was as doomed as he was, he closed his eyes and flowed into her veeyar.

  4