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 café 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 café. 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.”
“I know him.”
“I was told he was here,” Andy said.
“I’ll see.” The girl touched a com-pad on the bar top. “I’ve got a couple of newbies looking for Zenzo Fujikama.”
Andy looked at the com-screen, but it stayed blank.
“Privacy,” the redhead said, meeting his gaze with a little hostility. “A lot of people who game here like that. Maybe it’s a new concept where you’re from.”
On the shelf behind her a winking lens caught Andy’s eye. He stared at the button vidcam. “I guess that privacy thing doesn’t work both ways, huh?”
“No.”
“Send them away,” a mechanical voice ordered.
The redhead tapped the com-pad, blanking the function. “I guess they’re not interested in meeting new friends.”
Mark stretched a finger out. Immediately metallic webbing shot forward, connecting to the com-pad, the vidcam on the shelf, and stabbing through the ceiling. Sparks showered down from the power line overhead. The act caught the attention of everyone in the cyber café. Usually these places were by and large hackproof and left alone by cyber outlaws.
Andy watched in awe as the metallic webbing strand that stretched from Mark’s finger to the vidcam suddenly sprouted another strand that wove itself into an eight-inch monitor. The screen cleared after a moment, revealing a view into a small room with four people sitting around a table.
Two of the guys looked European, and the third was an African woman, Andy judged by her dress. Zenzo Fujikama had to be the young Asian guy dressed in the blue and silver Spacehunter leathers.
Spacehunter was a popular anime role-playing game that had come out of Japan. It was violent and filled with exotic creatures and locales. Andy had enjoyed playing the game, but it had been filled with too many diehard fans to make playing it anything other than a short-lived experience.
“Who are you?” one of the European men demanded.
“Andy Moore,” Andy said.
The guy had peroxide hair and a long black duster. His canines gleamed when they caught the light. “Doesn’t mean anything to me. And if you don’t clear out of our café, I’m calling the police.”
If you were clean, Andy thought, that’s the first thing you would have done. This cyber café had a reputation as being a hangout for hackers and had been busted a few times in the past. Mark knew that because he sometimes spent time in places like this one.
“I’m Mark Gridley,” Mark said.
“Doesn’t mean anything to me, either,” the blond guy snarled.
“Wait,” Zenzo Fujikama said softly. “The name means something to me.” He looked at the screen. “You took on Deathstalker 3000 and wiped it out a couple months ago.”
“What’s he talking about?” Andy asked.
“A game,” Mark replied.
Zenzo shook his head. “Not just a game. At the time it was the blackboard game.”
Andy understood then. Blackboard games were operated illegally on the Net. They were filled with risky builds that sometimes had uncontrollable implant shock spikes. Some of the damage, although not lethal, had resulted in gamers losing partial link-up ability with the Net. The draw was the risk, but Andy couldn’t believe Mark would play those games.