“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad,” Megan said. “Kidnappers wait a day or so just to let the family get worried before they make their move.”
“That’s the way your dad wrote it in his novel,” Maj pointed out. One of R. F. O’Malley’s best-sellers had involved the kidnapping of an operating room nurse from Walter Reed, and the story got even more complicated from there. “In real life kidnappers have a tendency to kill their victims. No witness equals no crime. More often than not, kidnap victims don’t come home to their families.”
No one had anything to say about that, and when the holo of Peter Griffen disappeared from the media broadcast, everything seemed awkward.
Matt walked over and put his arm around Maj’s shoulders. “Don’t sell us out so early. We’re just getting on the ground with this thing. We’ve always made a difference before.”
“We’re not above failing, and you know that.” Maj remembered Julio Cortez. The Net Force Explorers had tried to help him escape the situation he had been in. They’d gotten his family out, but not Julio.
“We’re not going to fail,” Matt said, his eyes still showing hurt from that mission. “That’s not going to happen.”
“It’s not about failing, Matt. I’m just afraid we’re already too late.”
Gaspar Latke sat in the corner of the room that had become his prison and watched Heavener standing in front of one of the blacked-out polarized windows. She talked over an encrypted foilpack in a verbal shorthand he couldn’t keep track of. She made things even more complicated by speaking in Russian. It was her habit to change languages on a regular basis.
Heavener was obviously unhappy. The emotion showed in the stiff way she held herself and the clipped tone she used. When she was finished, she snapped the foilpack closed and turned on him with catlike quickness.
She’s going to kill me. Gaspar trembled.
Instead, she said, “I’ll be back.”
“Su-sure.” He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stay warm.
A small smile dusted Heavener’s lips, and he knew she was enjoying his fear.
Gaspar peered through the doorway after she left, knowing he’d never open it on his own. It let out into a hallway filled with shadows and blank doors. Heavener faded into the darkness before the door closed.
Feek! Gaspar wanted to shout and vent the frustration and fear that were eating him up. The attention Peter Griffen had gotten at the convention, all that he knew about Realm of the Bright Waters, those guaranteed his death.
He forced himself into motion, dropping into one of the implant chairs and onto the Net. Jumping free of the warehouse location on the Net, knowing he didn’t have much time, he boosted himself through a sat-link and headed for Alexandria, Virginia. The reports Heavener had gotten included Madeline Green’s home address as well as her Net location.
On the Net, he hovered above her house and quickly sorted through the virtual connections she had to the Net. Most visitors to veeyar never noticed them, but Gaspar had programming that allowed him to make the connections visible. A lot of crackers did.
He blinked, then studied the electronic circuitry that stemmed from Madeline Green’s room. All of it was protected behind firewalls that looked like glassy-blue force fields. Knowing Heavener might return at any moment, he hurried when he should have hesitated. He spun a fiberoptic cable from his chest and shot it toward the system’s mail utility link. Since he wasn’t breaking in to destroy anything or to try to leave an archived virus bombpack, he knew leaving the message would be easy. But as soon as the fiberoptic cable touched the e-mail utility link, a hand stabbed out of the cable, coated in the same black plastic as the cable. It made a fist around the fiberoptic cable.
“You’re not going anywhere,” a triumphant voice announced.
15
Gaspar Latke panicked, feeling the incredible pull of the fist wrapped around the fiberoptic cable spinning out of his chest. “No!”
“Yes.” Mark Gridley stepped from the e-mail link. Gaspar pulled back, hoping to snap the fiberoptic cable in his chest. The pain when he hit the end of the cable was incredible, almost enough to automatically log him off. He’d extended his pain threshold for Heavener’s operations past all usual settings.
“Go ahead and fight,” Mark told him. “You’re hooked like a fish on a line. Maybe I can’t keep you prisoner here, but if you try to log off, the virus I’ve overlaid into your proxy programming is going to leave a signature I can follow anywhere.” He grinned and took one long step across the Net that brought him up to Gaspar hanging above Madeline Green’s house.
Gaspar ran a quick systems diagnostic on his proxy and found the embedded virus coding. None of the normal firewalls and detectors he kept as part of the proxy’s shielding had even phased it. The kid was good.
“You’ve got to let me go,” Gaspar pleaded. Instinctively he pulled at the fiberoptic cable. “Without following me.”
“No, I don’t,” Mark replied.
“They’ll kill me if you trace me.”
An uneasy look settled across the young boy’s face.
“You didn’t think about that, did you?” Gaspar demanded, knowing he had a slight edge. “About them killing me, I mean.”
“Who are they?”
Gaspar shook his head. “If I tell you that, they’ll kill me.”
“What if I don’t believe you?” Mark challenged.
“Then you might as well put the pistol to my head and pull the trigger yourself.” Despite the overwhelming fight-or-flight reflex filling him, Gaspar made himself relax somewhat. “Have you ever seen anyone die while they were online?”
Even in 2025, with all the safeguards put on the Net, it still happened. A heart patient or terminally ill patient logged on at the time of a massive cardiac arrest was a prime candidate. And no one had found a certain way to predict when a brain aneurysm was going to occur or explode, taking someone’s life with it. Gaspar had seen it happen, had seen proxies unravel on the Net. And some nights the dreams still haunted him.
“I don’t have much time,” Gaspar said quietly. “If they come back and find me online, I won’t be given a chance to explain.”
Hesitation furrowed Mark’s brow. “Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you anything that will lead directly to me. Or to them.”
“What were you doing here?” Mark demanded.
“Leaving your friend a message.” Gaspar closed his hand, then opened it, revealing an icon that was a crude parchment with a ribbon tied around it. “This message.”
“About what?”
“You’re welcome to read it, but I’ve got to go.” Gaspar felt frantic. How long have I been gone already? He hadn’t even checked the time when he’d logged on, and that was usually one of the first things he did.
“Give me something,” Mark said.
“I’m giving you that note,” Gaspar replied. “And I shouldn’t even be doing that.” He pulled at the fiberoptic cable, drawing back. The pain started again, sending crashing pain throbbing between his temples. “Track me back and they’ll know and I’ll be dead. I slipped through a bolt hole I left in the programming, but there’s no way I can get back through it with a trace on me.”
“Go.” Mark turned the fiberoptic cable loose.
Automatically Gaspar ran a systems check on the proxy and found it clean. He logged off and opened his eyes back in the dark room. Heavener was still gone, but he couldn’t quite summon up a true feeling of relief. The clock was already ticking on what was left of his life.
“—and then he was gone.”