And he flapped green, webbed wings and took off with a loud beating of the air.
Doobie stood looking thoughtful, and Chas wondered if it was the animation, or whether he was just superimposing that impression on to a blank AV. Either way, it was becoming clear to him that SL projected much more than met the eye.
Doobie: Methinks, Chas, that we should pay a return visit to your friend, Gunslinger Kurosawa.
They stood in the yard, among the swirling papers and the smoke from the brazier, waiting for Gunslinger to show. He had told them in IM that he would meet them back at his place. A bunch of soldiers in army fatigues and dark glasses pushed past them and into the store, walkie-talkies humming and crackling, the sound of distant voices burbling across the airwaves. They lined up along the edge of the sandpit and took it in turns to fire at Bin Laden.
Chas was nearly finished with the IM he was leaving for Twist. He had written an account of the gecko case, telling her that they had paid a further 500 Lindens on learning that Nevar Telling wouldn’t bother them again.
Doobie had been silent for several long minutes, engrossed in Search and IM, trying to piece together every scrap of information available in SL on the subject of Wicked Wilson. Finally she emerged from Busy mode, and swivelled toward Chas.
Doobie: Seems that Wilson was some kind of computer geek in RL. No one knew exactly who he was, but he was famous amongst the griefing community here in SL. A kind of genius vandal. The kind of malicious mind that would concoct the worst sort of computer virus and let it loose on an unsuspecting world. Until he disappeared, he had a store here that sold very sophisticated weaponry and tracking systems. It was a mecca for all the griefers in SL. And the military and police communities were also frequent customers.
Chas nodded toward the soldiers in Gunslinger’s store.
Chas: You mean, like these guys?
Doobie: Yeh.
Chas: I didn’t know there were cops and soldiers in SL.
Doobie: LOL. Oh, they’re not real, Chas. Just muttonheads macho role-playing.
A diffusion of light burgeoned in the air above them, and Gunslinger Kurosawa dropped to one knee, then stood up and glanced at his watch.
Kurosawa: Hi, guys, what can I do for you?
Doobie: Well, for a start, you could keep your mouth shut in future.
Chas jumped in hastily.
Chas: What Doobie means, Kuro, is that somehow it was all over SL today that we were talking to you yesterday about the Super Gun.
Kurosawa: Yeh, well, you know, it’s kinda hard to keep a secret in this place.
Doobie: Well, you managed to keep the secret of Wicked Wilson and his Super Gun pretty much to yourself yesterday.
Gunslinger Kurosawa shrugs.
Kurosawa: There was nothing secret about Wicked. Everyone knew about him.
Chas: And the Super Gun?
Kurosawa: A rumour. Nothing more.
Chas: So what happened to him?
Kurosawa: No one knows. It was a complete mystery. One day he was there, the next he was gone. And since no one knew his RL identity, there was no way to know what had happened. When the tiers ran out on his store, it got erased, and everything with it. Damned shame. There was some fine weaponry in there.
Doobie: So do you think Wilson would have been capable of writing the kind of script you described to us yesterday?
Kurosawa: If anyone could, it would have been Wicked.
Chas: And do you think this Super Gun might really exist?
Kurosawa: It’s possible. We heard reports of AV’s being zapped and replaced by cadaver clones. Nothing ever verified. But the rumour didn’t go away.
Chas: Unlike Wicked Wilson.
He turned toward Doobie.
Chas: Do you think it’s possible that someone killed him with his own gun, and that’s what they’re using now to wipe out wealthy AVs and steal the money from their accounts?
Kurosawa: I don’t know how they would do that, Chas. There’s no way to take something off another AV unless they give it to you.
With the ringing of his phone, real life crashed back into Michael’s consciousness for the second time that afternoon. He tore himself away from Chas and Kuro and Doobie, and saw that it was Angela calling. He picked up the handset.
“Hey, Angela. How are you doing?”
“Hey, Michael. Just a quick call to say I’m putting all my appointments on hold for the next few days. I’ll reschedule when I get the chance. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“Is there a problem, Angela?”
“A bereavement, Michael. There’s no accounting for death, and it’s no respecter of diaries or schedules.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Angela. Don’t give it a second thought, where I’m concerned.”
“Okay, thanks, Michael. I’ll be in touch.”
It was only when she had rung off that he saw the red light winking on the handset to let him know there was a message. He hit the button and listened to the welcome message, before he heard Janey’s voice, shrill, almost trembling with excitement.
“Michael, where are you, for God’s sake? I think maybe I’ve cracked it. Found the link between Arnold Smitts and Jennifer Mathews, RL and SL. Staring us in the face the whole time. Even makes sense of the money being paid into your account.” He heard her sigh of frustration. “Oh, God, typical that you’re not there. There’s someone we should really talk to together. But I don’t think it can wait. Call me soon as you can.”
Michael hit the recall button and listened as the phone rang four times before Janey’s messaging service cut in. He hung up.
“Shit!”
Chapter Thirty-One
Chas and Doobie sat in the sofa chairs in Twist’s office, watching the little train roll by. No giant dildos on it today.
Chas: It’s so frustrating not knowing what it is that Twist has found out.
Doobie: It sounds promising, though.
But Chas was doubtful.
Chas: I can’t figure how he could just stumble across something that connects all three of us — Smitts, Mathews, and me. And how can we all be connected SL and RL.
Doobie: Well, presumably he’ll phone again.
Chas: I guess. Maybe I should have left a message and told her about the Super Gun.
There was a momentary pause.
Doobie: Her?
Chas held his breath for a moment. He had just let the cat out of the bag. Only, there didn’t seem any point in keeping up the pretence any more.
Chas: Okay, you caught me. Twist isn’t really a guy, Doobs. Twist’s a girl I work with at the FSS. Her name’s Janey. Sorry about the deception. That’s just who she is in SL.
Doobie: No problem, Chas. Actually, I was going to ask you to give me your RL ID anyway. I mean, I know what you do and where you work. But it would be useful to have a name.
Chas: Why?
Doobie Littlething sighs.
Doobie: I hate to put it to you this way, Chas, but if anything happens to you, don’t you think there should be someone that knows the full story who can go to the police?
Chas: Well, thank you for that comforting thought, Doobs.