“Hold on there,” the man leaning against the wall said crisply.
Matt froze at the tone of authority in the man’s voice. “Who are you?”
“Jon Roarke,” Maj said as the agent brought out his ID. “Net Force. And that’s Detective Becerra. Both of them have questions.”
“We’ve got to find Oscar Raitt,” Matt said. “He’s been in contact with Peter Griffen.”
“Since the kidnapping?” Detective Becerra asked.
Matt started to shake his head, then immediately thought better of it. “No. I’ll explain on the way.”
“So where is he?” Agent Roarke clearly didn’t look convinced or happy.
Matt gazed around the huge lobby. More people than usual lounged in the chairs and sofas, talking up business in the pit groups. He didn’t know how many of them were really there and how many were there in holo form, but there was one thing he was sure of. “Oscar Raitt’s not here.”
“Maybe he got tired of waiting on you,” Megan suggested. “He could have gone back to his hotel.”
Matt flipped his foilpack open and punched in the hotel number for Oscar Raitt’s room.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the desk clerk said, “but there’s no one in that room.”
“Maybe he’s coming back,” Matt said. “Can I leave a message?”
“Sir, our files show no one in that room. Perhaps you have the wrong room. What is the name of the guest?”
“Oscar Raitt.” Matt waited, wondering if the blows to his head had altered his memory of the room number.
“Sir,” the clerk responded, “no one by that name is checked into the hotel. And no one has been in that room for two days. May I help you with anything else?”
“No, thanks.” Matt closed the foilpack, thinking furiously in spite of the pain in his head. “They say Oscar never checked in.”
“Maybe you got the wrong hotel, kid,” Roarke suggested. “You got your egg scrambled pretty good.”
“Maybe,” Matt said. “But I didn’t make up Oscar Raitt.”
“This is highly irregular,” the desk clerk complained.
“Maybe you want to whisper,” Roarke suggested in a low voice. “You’ve got guests sleeping, and we’re getting pretty close to the room. If someone is hiding inside, I’d hate to see them blow your face off just because you were talking.”
Matt watched the agent in awe. Roarke wasn’t exactly the buttoned-down type that made up most of Net Force’s ranks. He looked at Maj, who walked down the Mohammed Arms hallway with him.
“He’s got a rep as a wild man. I talked to Captain Winters about him,” Maj whispered. “He transferred out of the Navy SEALS to get into Net Force.”
Roarke moved like a force of nature. The young clerk watching the desk at the Mohammed Arms had caved immediately when the agent had flashed his credentials. It helped that Detective Becerra had added her weight, pointing out that the LAPD would appreciate the assistance.
“Where’s he usually assigned?” Matt asked. “A war zone?” His head throbbed but he scanned the hallway, remembering details from his earlier visit.
“I didn’t have time to ask.”
The night clerk halted a few steps from the door, hesitating. Then he handed Roarke the swipe card master. “Maybe I should let you handle this.”
“Good idea,” Roarke said, snapping the swipe card from the man’s hand. He glanced back at Matt, Maj, Megan, and Lisa. “You guys stand back. Winters’s orders were that you guys were supposed to stay out of the line of fire.”
Matt chafed but knew better than to ignore the man. Winters wouldn’t tolerate it. “Yes, sir.”
“Sir?” Roarke appeared surprised, but he quickly turned his attention back to the door. Detective Becerra stepped up beside him. He glanced at the woman. “Done this lately?”
Becerra gave him a tight nod. “I’ve been through a few doors. I’ll take low.” She took a Sig-Sauer 9mm from a holster at her back. The safety snapped off, and she ran her forefinger along the trigger guard.
Roarke grinned tightly. “We do it on three.” He crept to one side of the door and pulled his weapon from beneath his sweater. Holding the swipe card near the lock, he counted in a low voice. As soon as he hit three, he swiped the card through the lock and grabbed the handle.
The click of the lock releasing sounded like a cannonshot in the hallway. The agent twisted the handle and shoved the door open, holding it back with his free hand. The laser sight mounted on his pistol strobed the darkness in the room. “Got it?”
Becerra held her own weapon while in a kneeling position. “Go.”
Striding into the room, Roarke disappeared from Matt’s view. Then a moment later, the agent called, “Clear.” The lights came on inside the room. “No joy.”
Becerra followed him in, staying alert.
Matt was at her heels, swinging into the room an instant after the detective. He scanned the room quickly, taking in the neatly made bed, the clean room, and the total absence of Oscar Raitt.
19
“Peter wasn’t one for the rough stuff,” Zenzo Fujikama was saying as he guided Mark and Andy through the Net. “But he showed up pretty often to learn. Hacker hangouts are some of the best places to go to learn cutting- edge programming.
Mark didn’t reply.
Andy studied the city below as they fell through the fog toward it. The coastline and the bright lights looked familiar. When he saw the Space Needle, the unique saucer design flattened out below him, he knew where they were. “Seattle?”
“I’ve got some friends I want you to meet.” Fujikama stretched out his arms.
Andy’s vision went away for a moment. When it returned, he was standing inside a small warehouse that looked condemned. Smashed crates, broken boards, and debris covered the scarred concrete floor. The blacked out windows allowed no outside light in. Illumination came from a small room at the back. “What’s this place?”
“Spy headquarters,” Zenzo said, grinning. He started forward and lifted his voice. “Yo, Tommy T!”
Mark kept his voice low. “Don’t get fooled by this place, Andy. It might not look like much, but there are lots of layers we’re not seeing.”
Andy nodded, understanding. “Spy headquarters?” he asked Zenzo.
Zenzo nodded. “Sure. Every year a group of us stake out the gaming convention. We hack into communications feeds, media feeds, the hotel security systems. Whatever we can find.”
“That’s illegal,” Mark said.
“Maybe,” Zenzo admitted. “But it’s the only chance some of us have got.”
“Got for what?” Andy asked, intrigued. The warehouse smelted rank, and he kept curling his nose up, breathing shallowly. He knew they were down near the docks leading out into Puget Sound. The way some of the shadows shifted and moved led him to believe they were rats.
“To break into the biz,” Zenzo said. “If you’re a true gamer, that’s like the quest for the Holy Grail. You game?”
“When I get the chance.”
A door at the other end of the warehouse opened, letting more light into the warehouse and the thundering crash of techno-pop rock. A heavy guy in jeans and a black T-shirt with an imprint of Arachno-Boy in full battle mode stepped out. “Zenzo?”
“Yeah, Tommy,” Zenzo said. “It’s me. Want to shut off the security so we can come in?”
Tommy lifted a hand and pointed. A green button formed in the air, and he pressed it.
Andy saw dozens of light beams suddenly strobe to life, bouncing from one corner of the warehouse to the other, running from side to side and from top to bottom. The only neutral ground inside the warehouse was the spot
