Fatal Error

the crowd today. I was following him when you started chasing me, Jupe. You made me lose him!”

“I did?” Jupiter said. “Norton Rome was there? ”

“Don’t know what he thought he was doing,” the guy went on. “But there are so many employees at Oracle that he probably figured he could dodge Ek if he kept his eyes open.”

Jupe pulled on his lower lip, a sure sign that he was thinking hard. “Maybe we should trade information,” he said at last, and stuck out his hand. He introduced all of them. “You obviously know Rome, but what were you doing at Oracle?”

The guy shook hands with each Investigator. “My name’s Branson Barr, and I’m a programmer at Oracle, same as Nort. In fact, I used to be Nort’s friend, until he went off the deep end. This all started because he and I made up a computer game to play on our breaks. We called it Mock War.”

“You mean, battles with aliens or something?” Pete said.

“No, Mock War’s a series of battles between opposing armies of computer programs,” Branson explained.

“Were the programs viruses?” Jupe asked.

Branson shook his dark head. “Like viruses. Our Mock War programs were designed to kill only each other, usually by devouring the other guy’s instructions. You won if you had the most programs at the end. But Mock War wasn’t dangerous because when we finished playing, we’d erase the killer programs from our computers’ memories.”

“How could Mock War lead to blackmail?” Bob wanted to know.

“It’s because Nort’s a greedy son of a gun,” Branson said angrily. He stood up, stretched, and stalked around the workshop. “He used to ask me how come a smart guy like him wasn’t rich? He said working a job was too slow, a sucker’s game. Then one night while we were playing Mock War, he got the idea of using a virus to put the bite on Oracle.”

“Blackmail!” Pete said.

“Exactly.” Branson sat down on the couch again. “Nort’s wild, unpredictable. So I figured he was kidding. Brother, was I wrong! I found that out Saturday when Ek called me. He was frantic. Oracle’s system was infected, and they’d got a blackmail message from Nort. When I tried to untangle the virus, I discovered it was a lot more complex than anyone realized. I knew we’d lose everything unless we got the antidote.”

“So you went looking for Rome,” Jupe said.

“And I still haven’t tracked him down,” he said. “Time’s running out. Ek’s supposed to get a phone call tomorrow night before midnight to tell him where to deliver the five million dollars!”

“Which means we’ve got only one day to find him!” Bob said.

Branson Barr nodded. “Now, what about you? Have you seen Nort?”

“Rome almost rubbed us out a couple of hours ago,” Pete said, and described the pickup’s attack.

“That is one scary guy,” Bob said.

Branson slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. “I wish I could get my hands on him! He’s wrecking everything just to make himself rich!”

Jupiter stood and paced around the shack, pulling on his lower lip again.

“What gives, Jupe?” Bob prompted.

“Oracle’s the key,” Jupiter said at last. “Rome must’ve spotted me there. Maybe he thought I’d seen him, too, and that I’d tell Ek. That means Rome could’ve been the one who destroyed the spaceship. When that didn’t wipe us out, he came after us in his pickup.”

“Sounds right to me,” Bob said.

“Anyway, Oracle’s our only lead,” Jupe went on. “If Rome was there today, maybe he’ll show up tomorrow. ” He crossed the room and came back to stand in front of the little group.

“It’s time we had a plan,” he announced. “Now, listen. This is what we’ll do… ”

13 The Sugar Trap

On Tuesday morning Jupiter sat in his electronics workshop and screwed together the heavy plastic cases for two walkie-talkies. He’d just added power boosters to each, kicking them up from two to five watts.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Jupe?” Pete called from the grease pit. He and Bob were painting signs for the Ford delivery van.

“Does an atom have electrons?” Jupe said huffily.

As Pete and Bob chuckled, Branson Barr entered the junkyard carrying a stack of six enormous bakery boxes.

“I got enough for a battalion,” Branson said cheerfully. “Doughnuts, sweet rolls, and croissants. The junk- food freaks at Oracle will go crazy.” He loaded the boxes into the back of the van.

“Great!” Bob said as he and Pete hefted one of their signs.

“Gangway!” Pete ordered, and they carried the sign to the van and held it up against the van’s side.

“Is it straight?” Bob asked.

Jupiter came outside and studied it. On the sign’s left, a painted coffee cup and doughnut danced. On the right, pink icing dripped over chocolate-brown words: Snax Galore at Your Door!

Jupe’s stomach rumbled as he thought of the bakery goodies. Quickly he peeled a banana to ward off temptation. “Looks straight to me,” he said, and bit off a chunk. “Ought to convince everyone we’re really a coffee- and-doughnuts truck.”

“By the time we finish,” Bob promised, “we will be. Let’s bolt it on, Pete.”

As the guys attached the signs to either side of the delivery van, Jupiter’s Uncle Titus staggered up with a big coffee maker. “What a find this was!” he enthused. “Do you know how few coffeepots there are that can operate out of a car’s cigarette lighter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Darn few. That’s how many!”

“Thanks, Uncle Titus.” Jupiter set the coffeepot in the van next to the bottled water, coffee, powdered cream, and sugar packets.

But Uncle Titus was already gone. He’d spotted a customer entering the junkyard with a large cracked vase. The guys heard him exclaim, “What a treasure! Is it for sale?”

Shaking their heads over Uncle Titus’s idea of a treasure, the guys returned to work checking off supplies.

“That does it,” Jupe announced. “We’re ready for the stakeout.” He eyed Pete and Bob. “Last chance for you to call your girlfriends again,” he teased.

“No thanks, turkey,” Bob said ruefully. “One attack of frostbite per morning is all my doctor will allow!”

“Owww!” Pete yelped, and grabbed his ears in mock pain. “Turn the freezer to dee-frost!”

“Come on, you loonies.” Jupiter laughed. “Let’s get rolling.”

Jupiter and Branson Barr took the van, Jupe driving, while Bob and Pete piled into Pete’s car.

“So this is our walkie-talkie?” Branson examined the narrow black box as they drove toward the industrial area of Rocky Beach. Pete and Bob had its mate.

“Yep. I pumped up the power in both of them. We can talk to Bob and Pete even if they’re twenty miles away. That is, if the conditions are right — clear atmosphere and nothing to interfere with line-of-sight transmission.”

“Good thing there aren’t any mountains in Rocky Beach.”

“And it’s a clear day,” Jupe added. “Now, if we can just spot Rome… ”

At Oracle, Jupe parked the delivery van at an angle near the steel gates. Everyone entering or leaving would see it — and Jupe and Branson could count on a good look at them. Since it appeared that Norton Rome had gone in and out of Oracle the day before, the Investigators and Branson Barr were gambling he would do the same today. They planned to stay the entire day if necessary.

Pete and Bob sailed past in Pete’s baby-blue Aries. As they’d agreed earlier, Pete doubled back and parked behind the eucalyptus trees across the street. From there he and Bob could watch everything that happened at the