Terminal Compromise Part 115

"Yeah, let me at it. What the h.e.l.l did you want to know anyway?"

"I imagine you have a file on dGraph, somewhere inside the over 400,000,000 active files maintained at the FBI."

"I'm beginning to worry about you. That's cla.s.sified . . ."

"It's all in the company you keep," Scott chided. "Just ask it for dGraph." Tyrone selected an Inquiry Data Base and asked the computer for what it knew about dGraph. In a few seconds, a sub- menu appeared ent.i.tled "dGraph, Inc.". Under the heading ap- peared several options:

1. Company History 2. Financial Records 3. Products and Services 4. Management 5. Stock Holders 6. Activities 7. Legal 8. Comments

"Not bad!" chided Scott. "Got that on everyone?"

Tyrone glared at Scott. "You shouldn't even know this exists.

Hey, do me a favor, will ya? When I have to lie later, at least I want to be able to say you weren't staring over my shoulders.

Dig?"

"No problem," Scott said as he pounced on the couch in front of the desk. He knocked a few days of mail onto the floor to make room. "O.K., who founded the company?"

"Founded 1984, Pierre Troubleaux and Max Jones . . ."

"That's it!" exclaimed Scott. "Max Jones. Where?"

"Cupertino, California."

"What date did they go public?" Scott asked quickly.

"Ah, August 6, 1987. Anything else ma.s.sah?" Tyrone gibed.

"Can you tie into the California Highway Patrol computers?"

"What if I could?"

"Well, if you could, I thought it would be interesting to take a look at the police reports. Because, as I remember, there was something funny about Max Jones," Scott said, and then added mockingly, "but that's only if you have access to the same infor- mation that anyone can get for $2. It's all public information anyway."

"You know I'm not supposed to be doing this," Tyrone said as he pecked at the keyboard.

"Bulls.h.i.t. You do it all the time."

"Not as a public service." The screen darkened and then an- nounced that Tyrone had been given access to the CHiP computers.

"So suppose I could do that, I suppose you'd want a copy of it."

"Only if the switch on the right side of the printer is turned ON and if the paper is straight. Otherwise, I just wouldn't bother." Scott stared at the ceiling while the dot matrix print- er sang a high pitched song as the head traveled back and forth.

Tyrone scanned the print out coming from the computers in Cali- fornia. "You have one f.u.c.kuva memory. Sheee-it." Scott sat up quickly.

"What, what does it say?" Scott pressured.

"It appears that your friend Max Jones was killed in an automo- bile accident on Highway 275 at 12:30 AM." Ty stopped for a moment to read more. "He was found, dead, at the bottom of a ravine where his car landed after crashing through the barriers.

Pretty high speed. And, the brake lines were cut."

"Holy s.h.i.t," Scott said rising from his chair. "Does two a pat- tern make?"

"You mean Troubleaux and Max?" asked Tyrone.

"Yeah, they'll do."

"In my mind it would warrant further investigation." He made a mental note.

"Anything else there?" Scott asked.

"This is the kicker," Ty added. "The investigation lasted two days. Upstairs told the department to make it a quick and clean, open and shut case of accident."

"I a.s.sume no one from dGraph had any reason to doubt what the police told them. It sounds perfectly rational."

"Why should they if n.o.body kicked up a stink?" Ty said to him- self. "Hey," he said to Scott. "You think he was murdered, don't you?"

"You bet your a.s.s I do," Scott affirmed. "Think about it. The two founders of a company the size of dGraph, they're huge, one dead from a suspicious accident, and the other the target of an a.s.sa.s.sination and in deep s.h.i.t in the hospital."

"And it was the hackers, right?" laughed Tyrone.

"Maybe," Scott said seriously. "Why not? It's all tying togeth- er."

"There's no proof," Tyrone said.

"No, and I don't need it yet. But I sense the connection.

That's why I said there's a conspiracy." He used that word again.

"And who is behind it and why? Pray tell?" Tyrone needled Scott.

"Nothing's even happened, and you're already spouting conspiracy."

"I need to do something. Two things." Scott spoke firmly but vacantly. "I need to talk to Kirk. I think there's something wrong with dGraph, and he can help."

"And two?"

"I'd like to know who I saw in Amsterdam."

"Why?" Ty asked.

"Because . . .because, he's got something to do with . . .what- ever it is. He as much as admitted it."

"I think I can help with that one," offered Ty.

"Huh?" Scott looked surprised.

"How about we go into my office and see who this guy is?" Tyrone enjoyed the moment. One upping Scott. "Tomorrow."

Scott decided that the fastest way to reach Kirk, he really needed Kirk, was to write a clue in an article. Scott dialed the paper's computer from his house and opened a file. He hadn't planned on writing today - G.o.d, how long have I been awake? This was the easiest way to contact Kirk now, but that was going to change. Tyrone left early enough for Scott to write a quick piece that would be sure to make an inside page, page 12 or 14.