else about Peavy, about your plans to go looking for him?”
Martha looked out toward the water, considered. “I don’t think I told anyone. I told one of the island residents that I was going to Atlanta for a couple of days, because she’s watching my cat. But I only told her I was going, not why, or what I would be doing there.”
“What about your psychiatrist?”
“Dr. Goodwin? I told her that I wanted to go, but she told me not to. She basically forbade it.”
“How could she do that?”
“She told me I wasn’t ready.”
“And you told her about the visions?”
“Yes, I told her about the mansion, the glass animals, and then the boy lying in the shallow depression.”
“You think that was Peavy?”
“Yes, I thought it was him, but older. No longer a child. That’s what made me think he might be still alive.”
“It was after that you had the dream?”
“Yes, after I saw Dr. Goodwin I had the dream. I visited Lady Albertha and then I saw that symbol, the glyph, floating in the sky.”
Jarrell held the mug between his hands and gazed at the marsh. “You know, that symbol is the one common thread through all of it—Peavy’s abduction, your visions, the amulet, the police lieutenant’s murder, even the slaying from a year ago that Somis told us about. We’ve got to find out what it represents.”
“How can we?”
“Well, everything’s on the Internet.”
“Yes, but how do you search for an image if you don’t know what it’s called?”
Jarrell downed the remains of his coffee, slung the grounds onto the grass. “There’s one person here who might know just how to do that.”
—
The “business center” at Slinky’s Shangri-la consisted of a couple of Dell workstations hooked up to a satellite Internet connection and a printer on a galley table inside one of the defunct cabin cruisers. A shelf above the workstation was piled with dusty stacks of circuit boards, hard drives, cables, and old programming manuals.
Slinky pulled up another folding chair and sat at a terminal. The tiny metal seat virtually disappeared under the hemispheres of his massive bottom. “Welcome to my inner sanctum. What is it you would like to find?” he asked, pulling his sunglasses up onto his knit cap.
Jarrell showed him the photo of the amulet on his smartphone. “We think there’s an organization that uses this symbol. They’re giving us a hard time. We just want to find out who the hell it is.”
Slinky connected the iPhone to the computer with a data cable, then clicked an icon on the desktop that showed a cartoon eye behind a monocle. Seconds later, the browser window was filled by a white screen with a larger version of the monocle cartoon and the heading FUZZY EYE. In smaller letters next to the name was the word BETA. Below that was an upload button.
“It’s a reverse image lookup,” Slinky said. “The software isn’t one hundred percent legal. But that doesn’t stop us around here.”
“Why isn’t it legal?” Martha asked.
“Well,” Slinky said, “the cops and other people are already using it, but you need a license. It uses an image recognition algorithm to find approximate matches to photographs.”
“How did you get it, Slink?” Jarrell asked.
Slinky turned and shot him a sly grin. “Sometimes it’s best to not ask too many questions, compadre.” Slinky uploaded Jarrell’s photo of the amulet, then began the search for matches. A green progress bar began to slowly populate.
“The problem with the software is, you can use it to find out all sorts of information about someone. You don’t need their name, email, or anything else. All you need is a decent picture of their face, and nine times out of ten you can find them. In the wrong hands, this software could open up new frontiers in stalking. Of course, I don’t use it that way. I only use it to afflict the comfortable.”
The screen said SEARCHING… for a few seconds, then filled with rows of images
Martha looked out toward the water, considered. “I don’t think I told anyone. I told one of the island residents that I was going to Atlanta for a couple of days, because she’s watching my cat. But I only told her I was going, not why, or what I would be doing there.”
“What about your psychiatrist?”
“Dr. Goodwin? I told her that I wanted to go, but she told me not to. She basically forbade it.”
“How could she do that?”
“She told me I wasn’t ready.”
“And you told her about the visions?”
“Yes, I told her about the mansion, the glass animals, and then the boy lying in the shallow depression.”
“You think that was Peavy?”
“Yes, I thought it was him, but older. No longer a child. That’s what made me think he might be still alive.”
“It was after that you had the dream?”
“Yes, after I saw Dr. Goodwin I had the dream. I visited Lady Albertha and then I saw that symbol, the glyph, floating in the sky.”
Jarrell held the mug between his hands and gazed at the marsh. “You know, that symbol is the one common thread through all of it—Peavy’s abduction, your visions, the amulet, the police lieutenant’s murder, even the slaying from a year ago that Somis told us about. We’ve got to find out what it represents.”
“How can we?”
“Well, everything’s on the Internet.”
“Yes, but how do you search for an image if you don’t know what it’s called?”
Jarrell downed the remains of his coffee, slung the grounds onto the grass. “There’s one person here who might know just how to do that.”
—
The “business center” at Slinky’s Shangri-la consisted of a couple of Dell workstations hooked up to a satellite Internet connection and a printer on a galley table inside one of the defunct cabin cruisers. A shelf above the workstation was piled with dusty stacks of circuit boards, hard drives, cables, and old programming manuals.
Slinky pulled up another folding chair and sat at a terminal. The tiny metal seat virtually disappeared under the hemispheres of his massive bottom. “Welcome to my inner sanctum. What is it you would like to find?” he asked, pulling his sunglasses up onto his knit cap.
Jarrell showed him the photo of the amulet on his smartphone. “We think there’s an organization that uses this symbol. They’re giving us a hard time. We just want to find out who the hell it is.”
Slinky connected the iPhone to the computer with a data cable, then clicked an icon on the desktop that showed a cartoon eye behind a monocle. Seconds later, the browser window was filled by a white screen with a larger version of the monocle cartoon and the heading FUZZY EYE. In smaller letters next to the name was the word BETA. Below that was an upload button.
“It’s a reverse image lookup,” Slinky said. “The software isn’t one hundred percent legal. But that doesn’t stop us around here.”
“Why isn’t it legal?” Martha asked.
“Well,” Slinky said, “the cops and other people are already using it, but you need a license. It uses an image recognition algorithm to find approximate matches to photographs.”
“How did you get it, Slink?” Jarrell asked.
Slinky turned and shot him a sly grin. “Sometimes it’s best to not ask too many questions, compadre.” Slinky uploaded Jarrell’s photo of the amulet, then began the search for matches. A green progress bar began to slowly populate.
“The problem with the software is, you can use it to find out all sorts of information about someone. You don’t need their name, email, or anything else. All you need is a decent picture of their face, and nine times out of ten you can find them. In the wrong hands, this software could open up new frontiers in stalking. Of course, I don’t use it that way. I only use it to afflict the comfortable.”
The screen said SEARCHING… for a few seconds, then filled with rows of images
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