Part 8 (2/2)

Bob's study was Swan's first stop. She ran a gloved finger along the spines of the occult books. She had many of the t.i.tles at home herself. Magical systems are not unlike computer systems: both are attempts to change the structure of a world through the use of special languages. Hackers jokingly call their more abstruse bits of programming incantations incantations.

Swan was amused that computers ran on 'hex' code. And both are attempts to usurp power. The magician harnesses the powers of the elements or the spirits. The hacker borrows the power of the phone system, or the computer network.

Swan wasn't superst.i.tious; she read number theory and genetics as well as alchemy and astrology, and saw them all as reflections of programming. But a lot of hackers took the occult seriously. They'd try to hack any system if they thought it would bring them a little power, or better, a little kudos.

What was Bob's att.i.tude?

Swan went through Bob's filing cabinet and the drawers of his desk, jotting down numbers and details in her little notebook. Soon she had his banking details, his driver's licence number, his credit card details, and plenty more. She could have got a lot of this through hacking, of course, but the simplest solution is often the best. She had stolen plenty of pa.s.swords just by looking over someone's shoulder as they typed.

Bob's bedroom was a mattress on the floor, a couple of toolboxes, and a collection of stuffed animals cluttering a chipped dresser. On Bob's bed she found a sc.r.a.pbook open to a collection of newspaper cuttings. She sat down on the bed and turned the pages carefully with a gloved finger.

The military computer scandal had been all over the papers at the time. Despite his father's efforts to s.h.i.+eld him, Bob's name and even his school photo turned up in print, one of a 'small group of civilians' who helped stop the navy's computers being cracked wide open by Xerxes' program. A foreign hacker named 'the Doctor' was mentioned as well, a man twice Bob's age. Nothing more was known about him, except that he'd been instrumental in uncovering the plot.

Swan had Mondy's ca.s.sette tape from our all too brief session of wiretapping. The Doctor was back, and alert to another danger to the world's computers. Swan smiled a sour smile. How much did he know?

Swan went into Bob's kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. That was when she saw the metal cabinet sitting on the table.

Swan's mind went blank. She switched on the flashlight and pointed the dull circle of illumination at the beige cube.

The door was still open.

She stepped up to the table, dropping the flashlight onto it, and grabbed the cabinet, as if trying to convince herself it was real. She read the familiar warning stickers on the door twice.

The flashlight rolled off the table and bounced away across Bob's kitchen floor.

Swan reached down to grab it and found herself sitting on the linoleum, staring up at the violated cabinet. 'I'm gonna kill them,' she said. 'I'm gonna kill that kid and all of his stupid friends.'

Somehow, that promise seemed to clear her overloaded mind. Swan pulled herself to her feet, got the lights on, and made herself that cuppa. Her hands moved automatically as she considered what to do. The unique device she had gone to such great lengths to obtain was gone, stolen out from under her nose. (One slip! One! One hint of the device's location in an email!) She could make this good. She could make it better than before. If we wanted the device, she figured, we might have the others as well, or know how to find them.

Swan rinsed out her coffee cup and laid it in the drainer by the sink. She picked up the flashlight and stuffed it back in her coat pocket. She went into Bob's study, took a clean sheet of paper out of the printer, and found a black felt-tip marker in the desk drawer.

She left her message stuck to the fridge with a smiley-face magnet. On her way out, she noticed the clock. It was Christmas Day.

50.

One.

The Doctor took us out for breakfast at a scary vegetarian cafe somewhere in downtown Baltimore. The other patrons gave us the kind of curious glances they were used to getting themselves. Picture the four of us: the Doctor in his black suit, tucking into a hill of eggs and mushrooms and baked beans and toast; Peri slumped over a stack of organic pancakes; Bob, chain-slurping chocolate milkshakes like an enthusiastic b.u.t.terfly; and me. The little black-haired Aussie in the crumpled dark-grey suit, wrapped defensively around a bottomless mug of black coffee.

Ladies and germs, there is nothing in this world to compare to good old bad paint-stripper American coffee, trapped in a percolator jug and mercilessly boiled and reboiled into a thin black fluid of evil. Every gulp fills your nose with the aroma of nailpolish remover. You end up peeing the same smell. Add a few spoons of sugar to take the cruel edge off the stuff, and you have a confection equal parts foul and sweet.

Mercifully, the hippie restaurant was selling the real thing instead of some p.u.s.s.y subst.i.tute. I had three cups and Peri had four. Bootstrapping our brains.

'Today,' announced the Doctor, 'we'll return to Was.h.i.+ngton, and deliver the device we have to the Eridani.

My explorations have yielded as much information as they're going to. Then it's only a matter of locating the final component, and the Eridani can be on their way.'

'What about the wiretap?' said Peri. There were deep patches of dark under each of Peri's eyes; she wore no makeup, and her hair was still damp from the hotel shower.

She dropped her voice. 'What if the police know what happened at TLA?'

'Perhaps it would be best to stay clear of Bob's home for a little while.' conceded the Doctor. 'Until we establish just how much the authorities know.'

Everybody looked at me. 'Don't be ridiculous,' I said, stirring more sugar into my coffee. 'Why would I wreck my own story?' Boy, did I want to talk to Mondy. It was never hard to get him on the phone problem was, how did I make a call without the other three noticing? There was a payphone in back of the restaurant, but you could see it from our table.

'How do we find the final component?' said Peri.

Bob pointed a finger at her. 'Swan's email,' he said.

'That's right,' said the Doctor. 'She emailed a number of people, fis.h.i.+ng for information about the Eridani components.

Individually, the messages give away very little; she wasn't careless. But when you have the complete set, there's information which I believe can lead us to the final component.'

We finished up breakfast. (The Doctor paid in cash; no sense leaving a credit card trail behind us.) Outside the womb of the cafe it was a crisp, quiet Boxing Day. Growing up in Canberra, I'd seen snow fall just once wet flakes that disintegrated as they touched the front lawn. If we wanted to go tobogganing, we had to drive up into the mountains. I still love what snow does to the air, making it dry and cold, smelling of clean water. Besides, Was.h.i.+ngton was built on a swamp, and winter there beats the h.e.l.l h.e.l.l out of summer. out of summer.

'Ah, Peri,' said the Doctor, putting a hand on her shoulder.

'I have a mission for you.' She brightened up a little. 'Would you take Bob's car to the, airport and leave it there? Rent another, and drive it back to the motel.'

'I think I can handle that.'

'Hmmm.' He didn't seem to notice her sour expression.

'Take Mr Peters with you.'

Peri glanced at me as I flicked my Bic. I couldn't read her face, but she didn't look too happy about her pa.s.senger. Bob didn't look exactly ecstatic either at the prospect of losing his wheels. 'Don't worry,' Peri tried to rea.s.sure him. 'We can leave it in the long-term parking lot it should be safe. I guess it'll throw off anyone trying to find us, too.'

'Lemme get some of my stuff out of the trunk first.'

Moments later, Bob was babbling excitedly to the Doctor as they jumped into a taxi, already plotting their next move.

Peri and I looked at one another over the roof of Bob's car.

'Can you drive?'

'Of course I can drive. Even if you Yanks insist on using the wrong side of the road.'

<script>