"What is it, Grill?"
"More grief. Check the Alternate waiting area. It's as close to the edge of Gaming Area A as R&D is. Could one of the Alternates have gotten into ‘A', then doubled back through the service duct? It does seem we've got a blind spot for Garners. Psychologically, we just never considered them to be any kind of threat."
"I'll cover it."
"Good. Now let's give me something more to look for. Have you got a map of Gaming A?"
"I've got a dozen. We've been marking them up."
"You're ahead of me, then. Okay, mark out the killer's easiest routes to Gaming Area A service shaft 18-"
"He only had one good path. He had to go around a piece of papier-mache mountain. Grill, we should put TV screens on these transceivers. I could show you."
"One path: good. Now get Lopez or somebody to tell you what the killer had to see on his way to G. A. 18. Something he knows about that the rest of us don't."
"Lopez may not be happy about giving forewarning to a Gamer."
"Dammit, we've got a murd. ...eah. Be as persuasive as you can."
Marty sounded skeptical. "Sure."
Millie's voice came on line. "Chief, I've got some information for you."
"Anything earthshattering?"
"Shattering, no. Interesting, yes. Rice apparently died of suffocation some time after he was tied up. We think he regained consciousness before dying."
"Why?"
"The bandages on Rice's thumbs and wrists were heavily abraded. He must have been rubbing them against the concrete floor, trying to get loose. The gag blocked his mouth, and evidently his nose was stopped up."
"Whew." Griffin shook his head in the dark, feeling a tremor run the length of his body. "That's a hell of a note. Killed by a cold. That's really crazy." He ran his hand through his hair, trying to focus. Fighting dragons was exhausting. "What else?"
"Well, that missing statue was either stolen, or is in the hands of someone outside of Dream Park. No one knows anything about it. Rice made it in his second year at the University of Oklahoma. One more thing. Kokobun, the lady who tried to buy it from him, said that it felt hollow."
"Hollow. All right."
"This gets even trickier, Chief. Skip O'Brien did a check on Rice's psych profile, and the computer record has definitely been tampered with."
"In what way?"
"O'Brien says that the original report he filed when Rice first came to work here indicated that Rice was too much of a loner for office work. He just didn't fit into a team effort. Now the file shows him as having highly developed communication skills, a higher frustration tolerance, and his military IQ has been upped ten points."
"Well well. This is definitely getting strange. Somebody was grooming Rice for a desk job. Maybe an important one. Millie, find out if Rice put in for a transfer to another department, will you? Or if anyone requested his transfer. Keep working on any leads you can, and thanks, good work, people. I'll be back in touch. Beep me if anything urgent comes up, but remember, I might not be in a position to answer."
Bobbick's voice came back on the line. "By the way, Gruff. We've all been following the adventures of the infamous Griffin, and I must say that you looked great out there against them savages."
He laughed, and Millie joined in. She said, "When you chucked the spear at that monster, you looked so serious, Chief. Have you been leading a double life, maybe? By day a meek, mild-mannered security honcho, by night an avenger of evil-"
"Let's not go overboard, gang. I'm glad you're enjoying yourselves, but we've got business. I'll ring you tomorrow."
The transceiver blipped as Griffin closed and pocketed it. Griffin steepled his hands over his nose and breathed deeply. From where he stood with his back against a vine-shrouded tree, he could hear sounds of merriment from the campfire. The voices were tired but happy, and as he listened, Mary-em began to croak out a song.
"It was good enough for Odin, Though that croakin' was forebodin', Till at last the Giants rode in; Still it's good enough for me!"
He wanted to smile but couldn't. Business first, Alex. Business. There's a killer and thief to find before you can relax- "Gimme that old time religion,
Gimme that old time religion,
Gimme that old time religion,
It's good enough for me!
Montezuma liked to start out
Rites by carrying a part out
That would really tear your heart out,
And it's good enough for me."
No, he couldn't relax then, either. There would be paperwork and conferences. Then court appearances and depositions. Then a complete redesigning of the security procedures at R&D. Then- He shook his head. Keep this up and you'll start thinking that all you do is work your ass off, go home and crash, back to work, sleep for a few hours, work.
Well?
"Hi," Acacia said, materializing out of the dark. The beige denim safari outfit she wore was appropriately stained by the day's activities, and she looked tired. But tired or not, she had pinned back her flow of dark hair, and it framed her face beautifully.
"Hi, yourself." A smile wormed its effortless way onto his mouth, and he moved a half-step closer to her. "What brings you out here?"
She gave a mischievous giggle. "Well, Tony wanted to sing, and I got bored. And a little lonely."
He perked an ear in the direction of the fire, and picked up McWhirter's thin but pleasing tenor beneath Mary-em's roar:
"-Old time religion,
It's good enough for me!
It was good enough for Kali;
Though embracing her is folly,
She'd be quite an armful, golly!
So it's good enough for me."
"What about Eames? Did I notice some knowing smiles passing between you two?"
"That was for last night." She leaned against the tree, shoulder to shoulder with him, and stretched luxuriously. "It was no big thing, really, mostly talk. He's not as much my type as I thought he was."
"What is your type?"
"Aha. That is what they used to call a loaded question."
"What do they call it now?"
"An unnecessary one, given that I'm out here in the woods with you." She smiled uncertainly, searching his face. "I don't know about you, Gary."
"What don't you know?"
"Well, I can't help getting the feeling that you'd rather watch than participate. You like to stand aside and observe."
He cleared his throat. "Is there anything wrong with that?"
"No, not really. It's just that there's something about you that I like, and I get the feeling that you're not getting as much out of the Game as you might be."
"What am I missing out on? I mean, I'm having a ball."
She frowned at her boot-toes. "You've got this attitude, and I can't put my finger on it. You go through the moves, enthusiastically, even, but there's something businesslike about it. As though you're afraid to have too much fun. I bet you take your job very seriously, don't you?"
"Oh, I guess so. I see what you're driving at. But why would someone who's afraid to have fun work at Dream Park?" He ran his finger softly along the side of her neck. "Or join a Gaming party?"
The voices floated to them:
"It was good enough for Dagon, A conservative old pagan
Who still votes for Ronald Reagan, And it's-"