'I did a search for unusual deposits or withdrawals in the past six months, anything to indicate sudden pressure. Nothing. I did come up with a smallish check to a private detective agency, annotated 'services rendered,' but that was over a year ago, and there was no repeat. No idea what that might have been.'
'Can we get Vail on this line?'
Millicent typed in Vail's number and got a busy signal, followed by an encode that he would be off in a minute. 'What did you get, Tony?' she asked.
'Odd pattern of betting on California Voodoo. Somebody with insider knowledge has been betting on Army to win. Big money. I've told Alex, and now he's in as a rooftop guide.'
The air fizzed again. Norman Vail wasn't in his office at Dream Park. He was at CMC. His home office there was roomier than the one allotted him at the Park. 'Good evening, Tony. Millicent.'
Tony inclined his head in acknowledgment. 'I've found something of interest. Maybe. I think.'
'Yes?' Vail said noncommittally. His perfect, even teeth glistened, as if he brushed them with glycerine.
'I was looking, ah, looking into the gambling patterns for California Voodoo.'
Vail's lips twitched. He'd caught the hesitation. Tony plunged on. 'I came across some weird shifting in the odds.'
Vail listened as Tony explained. 'Yes. I see what you mean. Millicent? Anything so far?'
'No extraordinary expenditures, no unusual patterns of absence for Ms. Crayne.'
'Hmmm.' Vail sat back in his chair, rubbing his fingers along the bridge of his nose. 'I am attempting to fill in the blanks on the unfortunate young lady. Harmony arranged for her confidential medical and psychological records to be relayed from Tacoma. At this point I have a complete autopsy. Millicent, I assume we can have financial and telephone records eventually?'
'We already have all transactions or calls made from Cowles terminals. I'm hunting down the rest.'
'Fine.' Vail folded his hands. 'We are looking for an influence which might have caused an employee of Cowles Industries to betray a trust. To violate security in a very specific manner. McWhirter?'
'If my guess means anything, she pulled a copy of the interior security map of MIMIC out of the file and copied it.' Tony paused. 'How long did Alex know her?'
'Just eight weeks, as far as I can tell. She was hired in Tacoma after he left. She came down here to pave the way for the eventual opening of MIMIC to the Barsoom Project, and to establish liaisons with Alex Griffin.'
'She certainly managed that,' Millicent muttered. 'Would she have taken over Security?'
'No. She would have assisted the eventual chief.'
Tony said, 'She could have resented that-'
'Suspicion of sexism or some such?' Vail's lips pursed. 'Not a rational position there were a half-dozen people with greater seniority. I'd like to examine your data, if you don't mind.'
Millicent and Tony nodded. Millicent immediately began to feed the material over to Vail.
Tony doodled up a window and watched the numbers flow through the scenery, Millicent's office, and Vail's rec room. He hoped that Norman Vail could do something. The man was ruthless, and absolutely committed to Dream Park.
'That's it,' Millicent said. 'Anything else, Doctor?' When Vail shook his head, she popped out. Tony was about to do the same.
'McWhirter, would you pause for a moment, please?'
Tony paused. Vail tempted his fingers and smiled pleasantly. 'Tony,' he said, 'I think that we have much in common.'
Tony didn't see it that way. He said nothing.
'Neither of us cares for the niceties of social restriction. Both of us believe in getting the job done. I was wondering if I could count on your… unusual skills, if need be.'
Computer skills, of course. 'If it will get the job done.'
'They may be the only doing which can.'
Tony nodded uneasily and winked out.
Norman Vail watched information flow through the air before him. A printer in his desk was spewing out sheets of paper, folding into a neat stack. He sighed, pulled an oversized pipe out of his desk drawer and stuffed it with contraband tobacco, lit it, and took a drag.
With McWhirter in the fold, he could count on an endless supply of information. McWhirter wouldn't ask too many questions. One merely pointed such a person in the proper direction and gave him an excuse to do what he wanted to do in the first place.
Vail closed his eyes, and unbidden, his mind formed thin blue lines against perfect black.
Some were vertical, bisected a moment later by a series of horizontals. Along the horizontal axis he wrote Crayne. Along the vertical, Griffin. As an afterthought, he expanded the imaginary construct into three dimensions and on the third axis wrote Bishop.
What could Bishop have offered Sharon? Not money-that had been established. She earned more than she spent, and had no regular savings program.
Sex? Bishop had retired to Toronto. He had only been in the United States three times in the last two years and Sharon Crayne hadn't been in Canada at all. Hardly a torrid romance.
What did Sharon Crayne want?
What had attracted her to security work? Or better yet, driven her from police work?
Ah. It was there in her personnel record. She had been injured in the line of duty. Clean wound, beam weapon, but it had damaged her uterus. She would never bear children.
Vail examined that. Sharon Crayne had come from a family of four children. She was the second child. Happy childhood in a conservative Catholic family. How would she feel about childlessness?
Not a serious problem. Healthy ovaries; hire a bearer mother… hmm?
There were other avenues to explore, but for some reason, that one stuck in Vail's mind. He wondered why. There was something of interest there, he was certain.
Norman Vail trusted his hunches.
23
Thursday, July 21, 2059 — 9:45 P.M.
'Riddle me this,' Captain Cipher said, merrily scouring the pantry. 'How should one react to rumors of an imminent zombie attack?'
Twan stopped searching, eyes narrowed, then widening. 'Alimentary, my dear Cipher,' she said. 'I would take that notion with a grain of salt.'
'Yesss!' and they both broke up chortling. The apartment larder was well stocked, containing every seasoning imaginable. More to the point, its inhabitants showed their contempt for their blood pressure-they had samples of every sodium product imaginable: salt, celery salt, onion salt, garlic salt, lemon salt, and rock salt. Lopez's zombies were in for a rough, if flavorful, time.
Food was the next priority. Refrigerators and pantries were raided as Gamers stocked up on their supplies. When the backpacks were filled, the nine surviving members of the UC/Apple/Gen-Dyn caravan split off to bedroom or bathroom or dining room as preference dictated.
There was no vandalism, and very little gratuitous mess. After all, the owners of these apartments were probably watching and might well request a private conference with any vandals.
Coral's mirrored brother assured the Adventurers that there were comestibles on the twelfth level. Griffin watched Twan wrestle with that one: her partner, Tammi, was hot for the challenge. Their teammates were exhausted.
'And what kind of danger do you see?' Twan asked.
Tod's image did its best to keep them on track. 'Nothing too gnarly, dudes.'
Tammi made an anxious-puppy sound to Twan. Twan shook her head regretfully.
