hacker, even most electronic security experts would have found.
But not Marty Zellerbach. They came to him ? the other cyberspace wizards ? for solutions to problems not yet seen and for insights into what had never been done. He had no titles ? beyond his Ph.D.s in quantum physics and mathematics and his degree in literature ? and he worked for no one but himself. Like a whale trapped on land, in the physical world he flopped and gasped and was an object of pity or derision, but deep in the electronic waters of the cyberocean, he slid sleek and powerful. There he was king ? Neptune ? and lesser mortals paid homage.
Laughing happily, he flourished his finger like a duelist's sword and jumped to his feet. He punched the print command. As he spun a lopsided pirouette, the machine spat out the report. For Marty, there was nothing quite so satisfying as doing something no one else could. It was small recompense for a life lived alone, and in his quiet moments he occasionally considered that.
But in the end… the truth was he looked down upon the leadfooted, numb-headed folks who judged him while living “ordinary” lives and having “relationships.” Good grief, despite his Asperger's syndrome, despite his need for drugs, he figured in the last fifteen years of seldom venturing beyond the walls of his bungalow, he had had more relationships than most people in a lifetime. What in heaven's name did the idiots out there think he had been doing? Geesh. What did they think E-mail was for? Dumb!
Grabbing the report, he waved it aloft like the head of a slain enemy. “Monster virus, none can defeat the paladin. And I am The Paladin! Victory is mine!”
A half hour later, footprints from the same FRMC terminal led him straight into the antiquated electronic network of the Iraqi government and to a series of reports a year ago concerning an outbreak of ARDS. He printed out those, too, and continued to prowl through the Iraqi cybersystem searching for reports of anything like the virus as far back as Desert Storm. But there was nothing else to find.
Sophia Russell's telephone records were a tougher challenge. He found no intruder footprints in the Frederick phone system. If there had been a record of an unaccounted-for call from Sophia Russell's line to an outside destination, it had been erased from inside the company and every trace removed.
All attempts to find Bill Griffin through college, medical, social security, or any other private or public part of his past had turned up the same message: Address unknown. So Marty launched into the FBI system, which he had penetrated so often his computer could almost do it on its own. His time was limited before they would trace him, because their Intruder Detection System (IDS) was one of the best. He popped in long enough to see that Griffin's official record showed termination for cause. If there were any secret arrangements, Marty found none ? no clandestine reports, no pay vouchers, no code passwords, and nothing else to indicate Griffin was undercover. However, the record was flagged, and there was a notation: Griffin's listed address was no longer valid, the Bureau had no current address, and one should be obtained.
Boy, Griffin was really something. Even the FBI wondered where he was.
Far tougher than the FBI's firewall and IDS was the army intelligence system. Once Marty breached the firewall, he had to dash in, read the personnel file, and dash out. He found no current address. Marty scratched his head and pursed his lips. It seemed to him Griffin had not only wanted to vanish, but he had had the expertise to do it. Shocking.
That deserved some respect. Even though Marty had never personally liked Griffin, he had to hand it to him now. So he sat back, crossed his arms, and smiled, not touching his computer for a full thirty agonizing seconds. It was his way of giving the guy some respect.
Then with a flourish he opened a blank file dedicated to Bill Griffin himself. He was not accustomed to failure in the cyberworld, and it both annoyed and inspired him. Bill Griffin had blown him away. But this was not the end. It was the beginning! There was nothing quite so delicious as a new challenge from a worthy opponent, and Griffin was proving to be just that. So Marty grinned. He scratched his chin and willed his brain to leap into the stratosphere. To find a solution in his soaring imagination. That was what he could do off his meds ? take flight.
But just as an idea began to form, he jumped, startled. His computer radiated a high-pitched tone and flashed a dazzling red signal:
INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS! INTRUDERS!
More excited than nervous, Marty pressed a key. This could be amusing. The screen revealed:
LOCATIONS A AND X
Eagerly he tapped a button, and two high-resolution monitors came to life on the wall above. At Location A, which was behind the bungalow, two men searched for a way to squeeze through the thick hedge. But it was too dense to be penetrated and too high to climb over. Marty watched their feeble attempts and hooted.
But Location X was another matter. He swallowed hard and stared: An unmarked gray van had stopped in his hidden driveway. Two muscled strangers stepped from it, both holding large semi-automatic pistols as their gazes swept his property. With a jolt of terror, Marty's catalog brain identified one gun as an old Colt.45 1911, while the other was a l0mm Browning of the type used now by the FBI. These intruders were not going to be easily scared off.
Marty's short, stubby body shuddered. He hated strangers and violence of any kind. His round face, so bright and excited seconds ago, was now pale and trembling. He studied the screen as the mechanical voice challenged the men in the front yard.
Just as he suspected, they decided to ignore the warning. They ran toward the front steps ? an assault.
In an instant, Marty's mood improved. At least he could have fun for a little while. He snapped his fingers and bounced up and down in his chair as his automatic security system released a cloud of eye-stinging gas. The two men grabbed their faces. They jumped back, coughing and swearing.
Marty laughed. “Next time, listen when someone gives you good advice!”
In the rear, the second pair of strangers had stacked garbage cans from the neighbor's yard to climb up over the hedge. Marty watched intently. At just the right moment… just as they reached the top of the hedge… he tapped a key.
A barrage of heavy rubber bullets knocked them off. They fell hard, flat onto their backs in the neighbor's yard.
Marty had time only to chuckle, because the two in front had recovered enough to stumble through the gas and reach the front door.
“Ah, the piece de resistance!” Marty promised.
He watched eagerly as a stream of Mace from the ports over the door sent the men staggering and howling back again. He clapped his hands. The short, burly one who seemed to be the leader recovered enough to lurch for the doorknob.
Marty leaned forward eagerly. The knob held a stun device. It sent a shock into the guy's hand. He screamed and jumped.
Marty chortled and spun in his chair to check the other pair. The two in the backyard showed resourcefulness. They had rammed their car through the hedge and were on their feet and moving forward again, crawling under the sweep of lasers.
Marty grinned as he thought about what waited for them: stun devices in the other doors and windows, and cages that would trap them if they got inside.
But all the defenses, diabolical though they were, were not lethal. Marty was a nonviolent man who had never had reason to expect serious danger. His security was aimed at pranksters, trespassers, and tormenters ? against outsiders invading his peaceful isolation. He had constructed, invented, bought, and built a child's game of brilliant comic-strip mayhem and secret escape routes.
But none would, in the end, stop determined killers in a real world.
Clammy fear gripped his chest. His heart pounded. But being a genius had its advantages. He had designed a plan a dozen years ago for just this sort of emergency. He grabbed the remote control and the printouts for Jon, and then he rushed into the bathroom. He pressed a button on the remote, and the bathtub reared up against the wall.
