Duplicate Effort Part 27

"We think his death and Ki Bowles's death might be linked."

"Because Enzio died?"

Enzio Lamfier, the other bodyguard. "Yes," Romey said. "Gulliver was supposed to be with him," Lenox said. "That's why I asked if you'd heard from him."

Romey frowned just a little. "I do know that our people searched the entire Hunting Club grounds and didn't find anyone else who was hurt."

She almost said "dead," but knew better. But Lenox didn't look relieved. Apparently she knew that much. "So," Romey asked, "did you ever tell Gulliver what the others were doing?" "On which case?" Lenox asked. "On the Bowles case."

"He said she was difficult. He said she was hard to guard. She didn't listen to them. He had to know where the others were all the time or she might die." Lenox wiped at her face. "She died anyway, didn't she?"

Romey nodded. "I'm afraid so." "He was right, then," Lenox said.

He might have been right or he might have been using Lenox to find out where the other bodyguards were at all times.

"It would seem so," Romey said.

"Promise me you'll tell me when you find him," Lenox said.

Such a small request from such a desperate woman.

"I promise," Romey said.

But she had a hunch she wouldn't find Gulliver-at least not easily. And maybe not even alive.

39.

The computer tech stood three meters away from Van Alen's desk, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The tech was a heavyset woman whose expensive clothing didn't quite fit-either she ate more than her weight-loss enhancements could keep up with or she didn't have weight-loss enhancements.

She certainly never exercised. Even the skin on her face jiggled as she moved from side to side. Van Alen had only seen aliens that had jiggling skin. She found herself staring at it, hoping that the woman-named Fifine ("Don't call me Fifi, please") Ito-wouldn't notice.

"I found an encroachment." Ito threaded her hands together. Her fingers were startlingly small given the size of the rest of her.

Van Alen placed her own hands on her desk and leaned forward. It was a position she used to intimidate. She hoped that intimidation might get this woman to speak quicker, since she'd already been in the office five minutes before she admitted to the "encroachment."

Van Alen had called her because the maintenance team had been stumped. The power had cut to Van Alen's building, but something had kept the computer systems' separate line up. The maintenance team thought it could be that the "something" was built into the separate line (they would have to check and that would take time) or because someone had deliberately maintained the power to the separate line.

They didn't know yet. They wouldn't know for hours.

So Van Alen figured a computer tech might know.

Well, she hadn't figured it exactly. That had been one of Flint's suggestions.

If the maintenance team has no idea what happened, call in computer experts. And have them look for these things . . .

"What do you mean, an encroachment?" Van Alen asked.

"Something-something rather sophisticated-used that momentary glitch to search our network." Ito licked her lips as if she were afraid of Van Alen's response.

"Search our systems?" Van Alen felt cold.

Ito nodded.

"Did it take anything off our systems?"

"Not that I can tell," Ito said. "It was looking for something very specific."

"What, exactly?" Van Alen asked.

"I don't know. It's like-a net came into the system and tried to catch something, then disappeared. I have evidence of the net, but not evidence of what it was trying to catch."

"Can you tell if it caught anything?" Van Alen stood up. Her back hurt when she leaned forward too long.

"I don't think so," Ito said. "The sophisticated something remained the same size going in as it did coming out. If you think of the net a.n.a.logy again, a net full of, say, fish would make a bigger wave in the water than a net that didn't catch any."

Van Alen's understanding of water and fish and nets was almost as poor as her understanding of computer networks. But she did get water displacement images.

"Can you be sure nothing left the system?" Van Alen asked.

"I can't be sure. I can be reasonably certain. Honestly, though, ma'am, this thing was beyond my capacity. That's why I'm calling it sophisticated. We don't have anything in Armstrong that I know of that can run into a full computer network filled with so much data, pinpoint one area, and then remove it without leaving so much as a trace."

"But you just said there was a trace."

"Of the search. And only because I was looking for it in those two seconds. Whatever it was, it was looking for something very specific. When it didn't get that something, it vanished. Or . . ." Ito's voice trailed off. She continued her back-and-forth shifting. "Or?" Van Alen asked, not liking that she had to continually prompt this woman. "It left something." "As in a virus?"

"As in an alert or a message system, something that might contact whoever set the program up in the first place."

Van Alen frowned. She had heard of things like that. "Shouldn't you be able to find that?" "Eventually," Ito said. "But we're working with a sophisticated program. For all I know, the power glitch and the resulting trail through our computer networks was a Trojan horse."

"Something snuck in here?" Van Alen at least understood that metaphor. She'd used it a few times herself in court cases.

"And it'll attack when it's ready. Or . . ."

This woman had irritating speech patterns. Van Alen wanted to shake her.

"Or?"

"It will send information out of the system when it finds the information. Not an attack so much as a prolonged search."

"In other words," Van Alen said, "you have no idea what happened."

Ito flushed. Her face turned so red it almost looked painful. "No. Something came into our systems during the glitch. I think the glitch was designed to mask that. While we were all dealing with a momentary power issue-which distracted us and shut down our external security-something got into our computer systems."

"Which should have shut down but didn't. Do you know why?"

"There's a backup power system on them," Ito said.

"I know that," Van Alen said. "But a backup system should be buildingwide, not just on the computer systems."

"Really?" Ito sounded breathless. "Because as far as I can tell, it's only on the computer networks." "No," Van Alen said. "It's on everything. I had that system put in myself. We don't want to lose information . . ."

It was her turn to trail off. She had specifically wanted this building to remain active when there was a problem in the power supply.

"Ma'am?" Ito asked. "You want me to check to see when the backup equipment got changed?" "I'll have maintenance do that," Van Alen said. "You find out if there's some kind of Trojan horse in my network. And even better, see if you can find what kind of information that d.a.m.n search was looking for." "Yes, ma'am. Can I bring in some help?" "Inside help only," Van Alen said. "I don't want to have outsiders looking at my systems again today. I think we've had a big enough breach, don't you?"

Ito nodded probably because she had no other choice. Then she shifted from foot to foot again. "Go," Van Alen said. "And report back as soon as you can." "Yes, ma'am."

Van Alen sighed. She needed maintenance again. She wanted to know when the systems were tampered with.

Timing mattered, but not as much as the missing information.

Although she had a hunch she knew what the search was looking for.

Ki Bowles's files. Someone from the outside would think that Bowles had case files here. Instead, Bowles came every week for some new tidbit that Flint would send her out to investigate.

The files Flint kept here were not on the networked computers.

So the thing that had invaded Van Alen's systems had done so searching for something it couldn't find. Something that didn't really exist.

Still, it made her nervous.

She felt vulnerable for the first time in years.

And she didn't like the feeling at all.

40.

He noticed them out of the corner of his eye: a group of large men who seemed more like athletes than law students. Flint kept his head down but stopped looking at his screen. Instead, he watched them.

They carried handhelds and one even had a thick book with a green cover, something Flint had seen law students carry before. The men leaned toward one another and began to talk in an animated way. One of them studied the menu on the table, while another opened the book.

No one else seemed to notice them. The Peyti study group didn't even look up. Neither did the Sequev and human group.

Maybe they were used to seeing this group of large men gather in the library in the afternoon. Or maybe they had seen the men around campus.

It wouldn't be the first time that a group of humans-maybe from an area off the Moon-had come to the same university to study together.

For all Flint knew, they could be brothers.

Talia was still going through the information before her. She hadn't noticed the newcomers at all, which surprised Flint. He would have thought that she would notice everything new, considering how on edge she was.

He turned his attention back to the screen before him. Ki Bowles had been an only child. Her parents had lavished her with affection, and given her the best education possible. She had gone to college on Earth, where she majored in, of all things, art history.

That surprised him, but it explained why she had once said in one of her news reports that Flint looked like a pre-Raphaelite angel-"fallen, of course," she had added with a laugh.

One of his links cheeped. Talia looked up. She had heard it as well. "What now?" she asked. A message scrolled underneath his vision: Possible client. Urgent. Possible client. Urgent. And then his link cheeped again. The link was one of the few contacts he had attached to the sign outside his office door. He didn't need any clients. He probably wasn't going to take any for quite a while, maybe years. But the cheeping continued. "It's a possible client," he said. "I'm just going to wait until they go away." "Just talk to them," Talia said. "That noise is annoying." And then his link cheeped again. The link was one of the few contacts he had attached to the sign outside his office door. He didn't need any clients. He probably wasn't going to take any for quite a while, maybe years. But the cheeping continued. "It's a possible client," he said. "I'm just going to wait until they go away." "Just talk to them," Talia said. "That noise is annoying."

Flint smiled at her, then stood. He didn't want her to hear how harsh he could be. He walked back over to the pastry counter. The d.a.m.n things looked no more appetizing than they had earlier. His link cheeped again. He wished he hadn't set the stupid thing up to be audible, but he had. He'd figured he would need it, back when he thought he would need a lot of clients.

With a sigh, he answered the link-and found no one there. He frowned. He used the link to back-trace the communication, and got a visual in the bottom corner of his right eye. He saw the sign outside his office. The sign had a tiny black dot near the communications chip.

Someone had set up an automatic page. He frowned. He didn't like that. Automatic pages often had tracking equipment built into them. Whoever had contacted him might have used it to determine where he was located.

He and Talia would have to find another place to do their research-and they'd have to do so quickly. He disconnected the link, then started back to Talia's booth. As he did, the men got up from their table and casually kept pace with him.

Then two fell in behind him and one stopped in front of him. The other kept to his side. Flint realized that the one beside him was jamming his links. He stopped walking. He didn't want to lead them to Talia.

"Miles Flint?" The man in front of him spoke softly. "You're to come with us." "I don't do anything people tell me to do," Flint said. "Now let me pa.s.s." One of the men behind him grabbed his arm. The grip was tight. "I'm sorry, sir," said the first man. "We need you to come with us." "I don't care what you need," Flint said, refusing to speak softly. But none of the students looked up. No one did. No one seemed to notice his plight.

"Come with us," the first man said so softly that Flint had to strain to hear him, "or we'll take your daughter."

"And some of us," said the man holding Flint's arm, "are quite fond of young girls." Flint felt his stomach turn. The man's grip had grown so tight that it cut off blood to his hand.

He needed to get them out of the cafeteria, away from Talia. Then he would take them on. If nothing else, a brawl would bring the campus police.

"All right," he said to the first man, "so long as your goon here lets go of my arm." The first man nodded at the other one. The one behind Flint let go. Blood immediately began flowing again, sending a feeling of pins and needles into Flint's hand.

The men surrounded him and walked with him toward the door. He hoped Talia didn't see-or if she did, he hoped that she was sending for help through her links.

He needed to figure out how to get away from these men.

He had no weapons, nothing except his own strength and cunning.

His strength looked like no match for these guys.

He hoped his cunning would be.

41.

Bowles's handhelds were still in her apartment. The techs hadn't finished with everything. Apparently Gumiela had instructed them to bag and tag anything that might be construed as evidence, so the techs were being extra cautious.

As he pulled up beside the building, Nyquist understood why. He hadn't seen so many reporters in one place, all of them pushing and shoving each other in an attempt to get some kind of story. A few were reporting live from the scene. Others were trying to interview the poor street cops who had been a.s.signed to guard the building itself.

The noise was incredible, and for a moment, Nyquist, who was still feeling wrung out from his memory attempt, didn't want to go inside.

But he had to. If Bowles had those files, it might explain why Wagner had gone after her. So Nyquist squared his shoulders and walked onto the sidewalk. One reporter saw him, then looked away. Another frowned, and a third stopped interviewing a street cop and headed straight for Nyquist.