“Well, it’s the same thing in Cyberville. Only the muscles they have, they’re not real. I mean, I can’t bench- press four hundred pounds. But I
“Yeah,” I said. “And you figured that out yourself?”
“You want to know the truth?” she asked. “A man taught me. Not computers—what I just told you. And as soon as I snapped to it, I realized I’d have to learn the cyber-stuff myself. So I did.”
I saw the screen change. “That’s—”
“It’s coming up?” she interrupted.
“Yeah.”
“See you later,” she said, walking out of the room.
The killer continued his serial. The same way. I watched it come up, then started to scroll. . . .
I had been careful to act on a Monday. Not only are reaction times typically slower on Monday mornings, it is a major “sick day” for civil servants, and late starts are also common. In addition, USA Today does not have a weekend edition, and I wanted to give the targets maximum opportunity to post their answer as directed without having to wait. A Tuesday response was impossible, and even Wednesday was unlikely. A drive to the airport would be necessary. Anyone buying USA Today from a regular newsstand might attract attention in a small town, and anyone buying on two consecutive days certainly would. Such risks must be minimized.
Obviously, this is a part of the operation where a confederate would be invaluable. But even had I not ruled this out on practical grounds, I confess that my artistic sensibilities would be offended by the appearance of collaboration with others. I refer, of course, to *internal* appearance—externally, the appearance of having confederates involved in kidnappings is, indeed, one of the critical elements of success.
The nearest airport was approximately 77 minutes, depending on road conditions. [I was not willing to make the trip during the early-morning hours, at least not until there was considerable commuter traffic. The additional investment of time was worth the cover traffic would provide.] A minimum of three hours’ absence was thus required, so Wednesday was out of the question.
Fortunately, the child was quite capable of self-entertainment. The two-day wait passed uneventfully, and I did not have to resort to the tranquilizers some of the other children had required. At the age of ten—and a highly precocious ten she was, although her school records had not so indicated—boredom plays a significant role in counter-tranquillity. I asked the child if she wanted to play with any of the dolls I had purchased, realizing, from experience, that some children would eagerly accept a new doll while others only wanted their own—something I could not assure, depending on the circumstances of the original capture. The child refused, but made no reference to any doll of her own. Perhaps she was already outgrowing such things. . . .
Common thugs have “equipment” for their crimes. I have a repertoire. This includes a working knowledge of the developmental milestones in children and their unique linguistic capacities. One must be careful, for example, never to use “tag” questions when conducting interviews. One does *not* ask a child: “It’s really nice that it has stopped raining, isn’t it?” This common lawyer’s trick requires that the responder confirm the proposition in order to answer the question: i.e., to agree that it *had*, in fact, been raining, even if the child was not aware that it had been and could observe only the fact that it is *now* not doing so. I have also learned that an engaged child is a less anxious child, and so I delicately questioned my captive to ascertain her tolerance for engagement. As it developed, she was profoundly uninterested in what I had been assured were “age-appropriate” games.
However, I did have a variety of higher-level board games on hand, ranging in difficulty. Her favorite proved to be something called Risk, a strategy-based game not intended for children her age. . . . I had added it almost as an afterthought. I explained that Risk was not really designed for only two players, and she quickly grasped the concept of playing two roles simultaneously. I was prepared to let her win a moderate number of games, balancing a child’s natural competitiveness against the need to maintain intellectual challenge for her, but it proved unnecessary: There is sufficient luck in any game which involves rolling dice so that she managed to win legitimately a number of times. I noted with interest that she did not insist on keeping score, nor did she “celebrate” her victories.
“What’s a game that has the right design?” she asked suddenly.
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, you said Risk isn’t really for two players. There must be games that *are*, right?”
“Certainly. There are card games—casino, gin rummy, and others of that sort.”
“Do you have cards?”
“Uh, no, I don’t.”
“Can you get some? When you go out?”
“I can,” I told her, remembering that every airport in the world sells such items.
“What else?”
“What else?”
“I mean, besides cards. What other games?”
“Oh. Well, there’s checkers. And chess.”
“Do you have them?”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Can you—?”
“Yes, Angelique,” I said. “I can try to find a set while I’m out.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. Couldn’t you. . . make one?”
“Make a. . . oh yes, I see. Actually, I have no such skills. But *you* do. So if I provided the schematic —”
“What’s a schematic?”
“It’s like a plan. A picture of how something works.”
“You draw pictures?” she asked, an unreadable look on her face.
“No, child. Not pictures, plans. There’s a great difference.”
