Gameprey nfe-11

by Tom Clancy

  “It’s a wonder Eisenhower didn’t try to strong-arm Peter when he was down,” Andy said.

  “The way I hear it,” Leif replied, “they did. Only Peter stood his ground, offering to shut the game down till he did other work to pay for it, or take a loan out for the necessary funding from them. They gave him the funding and at a decent interest rate.”

  “Where did the other cash come from?” Maj asked.

  Leif shrugged. “No one knows. But that’s what they’re telling me happened.”

  “Someone believed in Peter’s game,” Catie commented. “That’s the only thing that would have made them invest.”

  “But why do it secretly?” Megan asked. “Why not just step forward, buy Eisenhower Productions out if the game was that good, and restructure the deal with Peter? This other corporation could have put pressure on Peter, put him in court with no money, and taken what they wanted.”

  Andy shook his head. “Sheesh, you’re beginning to sound like a financial adviser.”

  “Profit Channel on HoloNet,” Megan replied. “As the daughter of a writer, you’d be surprised how much extraneous information you pick up.”

  “Because whoever invested wanted Peter handling the game,” Leif said.

  “Yet Eisenhower wouldn’t let Peter bring Oscar Raitt in when there were game engine design problems. Oscar told me that cost another two months of time to straighten out.”

  “It meant one less person they’d have to control,” Leif pointed out. “And evidently this mystery fund-raiser has money to burn.”

  “Delaying a return on an investment isn’t good business,” Maj said.

  “It is if the business isn’t ready but you know it will be good.”

  Maj turned the possibilities over in her mind, trying to fit the pieces together. “They had more at stake than just the money.”

  “What?” Matt asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. But I think if we find out, all of this is going to make sense.”

  “Well,” Matt said, “you can understand why the Eisenhower execs would start panicking when Peter mentioned pulling the game. They were about to see their reprieve yanked away from them.”

  “Can you trace the money Eisenhower got?” Maj asked Leif.

  “I’m trying now. Dad even let me borrow the resources of a couple of his key people who are really good at this kind of thing. If it’s there, they’ll find it. But I’m betting there’s no trail. They’re good, these people.”

  “And they’re probably the people Heavener is working for.” Maj had filled the group in on the woman at the beginning of the meeting. “If we can find one trail, we’re going to find them all.” She glanced up at the HoloNet display in the corner.

  “But you’ve got to ask yourself,” Matt said, “what the tie is between a freelance industrial spy and an online game.”

  No one had an answer, but Maj was deep in thought, thinking about the bleed-over that had occurred. She watched the holo with interest. The hole’s sound was muted, but the picture was clear. Thousands of fans were already in the convention center downstairs, buying the Realm of the Bright Waters game launch on the Net the next morning. The Guinness Book of World Records was already on hand to watch history in the making as the game sold in the convention, in stores across the country, and over the Net.

  “How is it going?” Catie nodded at the marketing representative currently testing Maj’s flight-sim. The man sat in an implant chair provided by the convention at a demonstration booth she’d rented for two hours.

  Maj shrugged and willed herself not to pace. It was hard because, as tense as she was, her body craved movement. “Okay. I guess.” She paused. “I don’t know. This waiting is killing me.”

  “Lighten up.” Catie smiled. “You knew this was going to be the hard part. This isn’t like showing the sim to Matt.”

  Maj exhaled. “I know. I told myself that, but it’s different actually living it.”

  “So who is this guy?”

  Maj looked at the card the man had given her. “Harold J. Dawkins, Fortress Games. He’s a producer.”

  “Meaning he can license your sim for the company.”

  Maj nodded.

  “Fortress is a big name. I didn’t know you had them on your list.”

  “I didn’t,” Maj replied. “He just walked over a few minutes ago and asked me if I had the time to let him run through it. Two other reps didn’t show up, so it was no problem.”

  Catie crossed her fingers and showed them to Maj, smiling.

  Maj tried to ignore the butterflies beating their little brains out in her stomach. “Has Leif found out anything about Eisenhower’s mystery investor?”

  “No. Roarke and Matt are busy trying to trace Oscar Raitt’s movements. They found his plane ticket reservation from Sea-Tac, and they’ve located the shuttle driver who brought Raitt into the hotel. However, the hotel’s stance is that if a guest isn’t registered in their computers, that person was never a guest. Holmes has put a detective on the investigation as well, but Matt doesn’t think they’re going to find anything.”

  Disappeared, or dead? Maj wondered, feeling very cold inside. The guy who met me at the banquet last night was plenty scared.

  Harold J. Dawkins sat up in the implant chair. He was in his mid-twenties, with clipped peroxide-blond hair and a boyish grin. He wore athletic clothing but didn’t look like he owned a club membership anywhere. “Hey, great sim. It’s like you’re really there.” He planed his hand through the air in front of him and made jet engine noises.

  Maj smiled, relieved. “Thanks. I put a lot of time into that build.”

  “Trust me,” Dawkins said. “It shows. I’m glad I came over here.” He took a PDA pad from his pocket and switched it on. “I think we just might be able to work something out. If you’re ready to license the property.”

  Catie looked at Maj with rounded eyes that Dawkins couldn’t see and mouthed, Wow!

  “Sure,” Maj said. “I mean, are you sure?”

  Dawkins laughed. “I’ve been licensing games for a while. I think I know a good one when I see it. If you could, I’d like to talk to you about the potential arrangements. If you have the time. And that’s assuming you don’t have any other offers you’d like to consider.”

  Maj was stunned. “Uh, no, there aren’t any other offers.”

  Catie frowned at her, then turned to Dawkins with a sweet smile. “Of course, there are still a few other companies who are going to demo the sim later today and tomorrow.”

  “I understand, but I’m prepared to go to contract over this,” Dawkins said. “Right now.”

  “Just like that?” Maj asked.

  Dawkins shrugged. “It’s a yes-or-no proposition. My company puts me out here to buy games, that’s what I do. If I see something I like, I’ll know it, and then I license it. I guess you could make this harder than what it is, but I never have.”

  Everything in Maj wanted to say yes. It was a confirmation of her talents and instincts. But a feeling persisted in her that suddenly everything wasn’t quite right. The offer just didn’t feel right.

  “Can I get back to you on that?” Maj asked.

  Consternation and irritation showed on Dawkins’s face. “I’d really like to talk to you about this now.”

  “I know,” Maj said. “But my dad wants me to talk to him first if anyone is interested in the game.” It wasn’t a lie. Her dad took an interest in everything she did, and he probably would want to talk to her first. “Can I give you a call after I’ve talked to him?”

  “I’m really used to getting what I want out of a deal,” Dawkins said.

  “I’m not saying you won’t,” Maj replied.

  Dawkins hesitated for a moment, as if struggling for something to say. Finally he smiled and left.

  Maj watched the rep go, suspicion darkening her thoughts.

  “She didn’t go for it,” Heavener said.

  Seated behind the cluttered desk in the c
omfortable disarray of his personal workspace veeyar, Gaspar smiled despite the fear that thrummed steadily in him. Maj Green was proving to be quite resourceful. All the Net Explorers were. He watched Heavener through a buttoncam.

  Heavener talked on the encrypted comm-line, and he was only able to hear her side of the conversation. “Maybe Dawkins overplayed his hand,” she said, “but it was within the parameters of his assignment.” She paused. “No, I don’t think the girl is overly suspicious of him.”

  Gaspar glanced at the other monitors open to him on the desk, surveying the convention. Heavener’s tech teams had been very quick to reestablish the spylines. As yet, she hadn’t given him any concrete assignments other than to monitor the situation and keep the confusion going on concerning Oscar Raitt.

  He’d felt good about the Raitt connection Matt Hunter had turned up. That had been perhaps the only link to Peter that Heavener hadn’t accounted for. The woman had her flaws — other than being a deadly killer and psychotic.

  “Stronger measures are called for,” Heavener said. “After ten o’clock Eastern Standard Time tomorrow, it will be too late to stop it.”

  Gaspar listened intently. Ten EST was when Realm of the Bright Waters was due to launch. He’d known Peter’s game was the centerpiece of their plans, but he didn’t know D’Arnot Industries was only waiting on the launch. He still wasn’t completely sure what the corporation was going to do with the game’s disruptive programming.

  “We kill her,” Heavener said.

  Gaspar’s blood turned to ice in his veins.

  “Captain Winters will get involved in finding out who executed her,” Heavener continued. “By the time they cordon off the convention and get the investigation set up, they won’t be thinking about the game.”

  On the monitor screen Heavener listened for a short time, then she smiled coldly.

  “I have a very simple plan in mind,” Heavener said. “Oscar Raitt, the game designer we kidnapped last night, can be used to take the fall. I will set it up so it looks as if Raitt killed Green and Griffen out of jealousy over his friend’s successes. We’ll make it look as if Griffen faked his own disappearance to enhance the marketing of his game. Eisenhower officials will back us up, saying Peter was zealous in making the game a hit. After he murders Green and Griffen, Raitt will be shot dead by one of the hotel guards we’ve bought off.”

  Gaspar listened to the silence that followed Heavener’s words. He felt short of breath, liked he’d been running hard.

  “Tomorrow morning shortly before the game’s release online,” Heavener agreed, then tapped the touchscreen to break the connection. She turned and walked to Gaspar’s body lying in the implant chair. A knife magically appeared in her hand.

  She knows I’ve been listening. The realization hit Gaspar like a depth charge.

  “Listen, little bug,” Heavener said in a cold, sandpapery voice, “I know you’ve been spying on me.” She tucked the knife blade up under Gaspar’s physical body. “I let you live so you’d know how futile anything you might try is.”

  Gaspar couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. The connection he had with his physical body was dimmed because of the neural interface with the Net, but he still felt the chill of the knife edge at his throat.

  “What happens if I slice across the carotid artery here?” Heavener placed the blade’s point against his neck. “You bleed to death, of course. But do you choose to watch your own death from there? Or do you return to your body and die here?”

  Gaspar couldn’t answer.

  “And if you watch from there,” Heavener went on, “when you die here, do you simply wink out of existence there? Like the last spark in a broken lightbulb?”

  Shivering fear ran all through Gaspar. The stress overload indicators flashed a warning in the air beside him. If his reactions didn’t stay under control, the Net would kick him out and put him back in that chair. He struggled to stay calm.

  Abruptly Heavener pulled the blade away. “Don’t fail me. There are worse things in life than dying. I know them all.” She stepped toward the buttoncam mounted on the wall and slammed the butt of the knife into it, smashing it.

  Inside the veeyar workspace, the monitor changed to a cold, flat empty gray.

  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.”