Gameprey

stood at one end.

“Surprise, surprise,” Derek said in a low voice, glancing in the direction of a dozen people who’d just been ushered into the banquet room by the maitre d’. “We’re being invaded by the media tonight.”

Veronica Rivers, the reporter who’d been covering the gaming convention at the hotel, was prominent among the reporters. The maitre d’ showed them to a table, but the reporters immediately wandered off, staking out interviewing claims.

“That’s a vicious little game Eisenhower Productions is playing,” Derek said. “If they engineered Peter’s disappearance.”

“Why?”

“If those entertainment reporters figure out they’re getting used, they’re going to turn on Eisenhower like a system-wide crash fragmenting a hard drive. With the financial situation they’re in, that wouldn’t be pretty.”

“What financial situation?” Maj asked.

Derek shook his head. “I forgot you weren’t in the biz there for a minute. Rumor has it that Eisenhower Productions was about to climb in the old financial coffin before Peter Griffen and Realm of the Bright Waters came along. That’s part of the reason he was able to muscle them into agreeing with everything he wanted. However, they ran short on liquid cash. So did Peter, from what I heard.”

“I’d heard he was financially stable.”

“He wasn’t in any danger of starving,” Derek admitted, “but it takes a lot of cash to develop a game. Most publishers underwrite development, but in Eisenhower Productions’ case, they weren’t able to do it. Peter may have gotten more rushed than he wanted. Maybe he and Eisenhower Productions were both desperate.”

Maj tried to make that fit with what she had seen of Peter, but it didn’t work. Peter had come across too confident, too sure of himself. But that could have been an act.

Abruptly a public address system cut on, filling the banquet area with staticky noise. “May I have your attention, please.”

The crowd turned to face the speaker’s area as the lights dimmed and spotlights ignited one end of the room. A short, heavyset man with a curly beard and glasses stood in the middle of the light. “For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Don DeGovia, CEO of Eisenhower Productions.”

A slight murmur ran though the crowd.

Maj listened with keen interest, wondering if Peter Griffen had already been found. And if he had been, in what kind of shape he was in.

16

“As you all have doubtless heard,” Don DeGovia went on, “an unbelievable crime was committed at the convention today when Peter Griffen, whose Griffen Games imprint, Online and On Target, was getting ready to unleash the new Net experience, Realm of the Bright Waters, was kidnapped and taken from us.”

Maj listened intently and glanced around the room, wondering how the other game publishers were reacting. But everyone in the room seemed interested in what was going on.

“Mr. DeGovia,” Veronica Rivers spoke up. Evidently her camera and sound equipment were located in her clothing because Maj noticed that the woman wasn’t panicking while looking for a cameraman.

“Yes, Ms. Rivers.”

“Can you tell us what is being done to locate Peter Griffen?”

DeGovia didn’t hesitate. “Everything,” he said. “Everything that can be done is now being done. By the police and by the private security guards we maintain. So far, I’m told, there are no leads. We hope to change that.” The CEO cleared his throat. “As of tonight, Eisenhower Productions is offering a reward of one million dollars to anyone who can help us find Peter Griffen.”

Conversations started up immediately as the crowd reacted to the news.

“And that,” Derek said quietly at Maj’s side, “is worth more than a million dollars in advertising. By tonight this story is going to be run on every major news service across the planet.”

“Do you still think Peter and Eisenhower could be responsible for the kidnapping?” Maj asked.

“Oh, yeah. Legal fees to get out of something like this would be expensive, but not impossible. And the profit we’re talking about will more than make up for it.” Derek shook his head. “Plus, they still have to get caught at it. If they fake the payoff, they can even give themselves a million-dollar write-off on their taxes.”

“You make it sound like it’s all about the money.”

Derek nodded. “At this level it almost always is.”

“My God, DeGovia, do you realize what you’ve done?” A stout man with short-clipped red hair stepped forward from the crowd. “Making an announcement like this, you’ve made targets of each and every member of the game design community.”

“I’m just trying to help Peter,” DeGovia replied. “It’s all I know how to do.”

“That’s Kip Wilson,” Derek whispered to Maj. “Creator of Bug Battles.”

“It’s only been a few hours since Griffen disappeared,” Wilson declared. “Give the police a chance to do their job.”

“Time is of the essence,” DeGovia went on. “I’m doing what I think I need to do.”

“Mr. DeGovia,” Veronica interrupted, “has there been a ransom demand?”

“No,” DeGovia replied. “At present we’re all waiting. But we’re willing to pay it.”

The banquet suddenly turned into a madhouse as everyone started talking at once. Maj looked around her in disbelief. Is this what I was supposed to see tonight? And if it is, what am I supposed to learn? She scanned the crowd, wondering if the guy who’d given Mark the message was still waiting to make his move.

“You know,” Derek said at her side, “Eisenhower is going to be back in the black profit-wise after tonight. They’re going to sell a bazillion games. You can’t compete with this kind of attention.”

Andy and Mark shot through the telecommunications grid high above Russia, then zipped down to a cyber cafe in Leningrad.

They’d been steadily backtracking Peter Griffen’s trail in the gaming world for the last three hours. Information they’d gotten from the gaming community in Seattle, Washington, led them to Tokyo. Peter had spent a lot of time in different gaming areas learning his craft even after he’d achieved some success.

Andy understood and respected that. Gaming was a way of life, and to really live, you had to spend time at it every day. He could always tell the difference between an occasional gamer and someone who really got into it within just a few seconds of play. He’d never had that kind of attention span to give up weeks and months to a particular kind of game. And most gamers had years of experience on him.

Together, he and Mark walked into the cyber cafe. It was a small brick building three stories tall, lurched up against an ancient apartment complex three times its size. Implant chairs of all makes and models sat strewn across the black-and-white tiled floor under weak lighting. Techno-rock crashed like thunder in the background. Nearly all of the chairs were filled.

The room blurred as they crossed the threshold and the holoprojectors kicked in with a surge Andy felt along his implants. “Oh, man,” he complained, “they need a system upgrade.”

“Since we’re here asking for a favor,” Mark suggested, “maybe it would be wise not to mention that.”

Andy gazed around the room. Now that the holoprojector had cut in, the room was cleaner and brighter. The implant chairs were gone and only a few people sat around the tables waiting for someone to game with. They were all in various proxies, some made up, others from various games.

He crossed the room to the cute redhead behind the bar. Bottled water, soft drinks, and bags of chips and candy, all virtual, filled the chillers and the shelves behind her.

“Hi,” Andy said.

“Hi,” the redhead greeted. “There’s a small entrance fee if you’re going to stay and play.”

Andy shook his head. “Just looking for someone.”

The girl shrugged. “If I know them.”

“Zenzo Fujikama.”