“Do you mind if we call you again if we think of anything else?”
“Yes…I mean no, ma’am. Sure,” said Fischer.
“Thanks, Sarge, we’ll be in touch,” I said, forcing my eye line to stay above the PA’s neck. It took every ounce of willpower. I could feel Masters watching me. I’m told the Europeans handle this sort of dilemma totally differently from us Americans. They just go ahead and look.
Newspapers and magazines were lowered again as Fischer made her way out.
I sat and reached for a doughnut. At last, food. “What do you make of that?” I said, mouth full.
“That Scott had another woman? Kind of opens up the territory a bit, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Doughnut?”
Masters declined the offer as I reached for another.
We rehashed what we knew about Peyton Scott, about the state of his corpse, about the autopsy report, and about how the two didn’t gel. The death of the son kept cropping up, and I couldn’t help feeling it was significant to the killing of General Scott in a way we didn’t yet understand. And there was the other question unrelated to father and son that I wanted to ask Masters, but I wasn’t sure how she’d take it.
I ate all the doughnuts while we talked. Eventually we came full circle. “So, how do we find this other woman?” asked Masters.
“The missing cell will take us straight to her.”
“Yeah, but how do we find that?”
“I have an idea,” I said.
NINE
I t was dark by the time we left the Melting Pot. The wind was up and the temperature had dropped to the mid-fifties. I wasn’t dressed for it and the cold sliced through my clothing. I’d had enough for one day. In the silence, Masters said, “A bit of housekeeping. I’ve ordered a couple of extra ACUs for you. They should arrive tomorrow. Your rank is lieutenant, right?”
I didn’t bite. I was too damn tired to spar. Also, the question I wanted to ask Masters was sucking away much of my attention. My cell rang. “Hello.”
“Sir, Flight Lieutenant Bishop here,” said the voice.
Bishop…Bishop…
“I’m working on the general’s computer, sir,” said the flight lieutenant helpfully.
It came back to me. “Right. Sorry, Peter, it has been a hell of a day.”
“That’s okay, sir. Just wanted to tell you. I’ve struck a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” I repeated for Masters’s sake.
“Managed to get past the general’s user code, but he’s running a program called Dungeon.”
“What’s that?”
“Dungeon is what it sounds like—a lockup, only one for your files. It’s a tough nut to crack. Four levels, each one trickier than the last to get through. The general has around one meg of files locked away—not a lot, really.”
“But he probably wouldn’t bother unless those files were important.”
“A reasonable assumption, Special Agent.”
“You going to be able to break into it?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll need a couple days for each level, maybe more. I can’t even guarantee I’m going to be able to crack the innermost levels.”
“Do what you can, Flight Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, ending the call.
“What’s up?” asked Masters.
“The general’s computer. All his files are locked in a kind of prison with no visitors allowed. Bishop’s starting to tunnel in, but he’s going to need time, and a file baked into a cake.” I rubbed my face with both hands. It felt good so I did it again.
“A what?” Masters looked confused.
“Never mind,” I said. “I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, you look dead on your feet, Cooper. Leave your car here and I’ll give you a lift back to K-town.”
“Sure, thanks.” I was hoping she’d offer, but didn’t want to ask. “You live in K-town?”
“Out on the edge where you’re less likely to get hit by a jogger.”
I folded my arms against my body and turned the heater up as we cleared the security post. Warm air funneled from the duct, making me more drowsy.
“So where is
“Yes…I mean no, ma’am. Sure,” said Fischer.
“Thanks, Sarge, we’ll be in touch,” I said, forcing my eye line to stay above the PA’s neck. It took every ounce of willpower. I could feel Masters watching me. I’m told the Europeans handle this sort of dilemma totally differently from us Americans. They just go ahead and look.
Newspapers and magazines were lowered again as Fischer made her way out.
I sat and reached for a doughnut. At last, food. “What do you make of that?” I said, mouth full.
“That Scott had another woman? Kind of opens up the territory a bit, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Doughnut?”
Masters declined the offer as I reached for another.
We rehashed what we knew about Peyton Scott, about the state of his corpse, about the autopsy report, and about how the two didn’t gel. The death of the son kept cropping up, and I couldn’t help feeling it was significant to the killing of General Scott in a way we didn’t yet understand. And there was the other question unrelated to father and son that I wanted to ask Masters, but I wasn’t sure how she’d take it.
I ate all the doughnuts while we talked. Eventually we came full circle. “So, how do we find this other woman?” asked Masters.
“The missing cell will take us straight to her.”
“Yeah, but how do we find that?”
“I have an idea,” I said.
NINE
I t was dark by the time we left the Melting Pot. The wind was up and the temperature had dropped to the mid-fifties. I wasn’t dressed for it and the cold sliced through my clothing. I’d had enough for one day. In the silence, Masters said, “A bit of housekeeping. I’ve ordered a couple of extra ACUs for you. They should arrive tomorrow. Your rank is lieutenant, right?”
I didn’t bite. I was too damn tired to spar. Also, the question I wanted to ask Masters was sucking away much of my attention. My cell rang. “Hello.”
“Sir, Flight Lieutenant Bishop here,” said the voice.
Bishop…Bishop…
“I’m working on the general’s computer, sir,” said the flight lieutenant helpfully.
It came back to me. “Right. Sorry, Peter, it has been a hell of a day.”
“That’s okay, sir. Just wanted to tell you. I’ve struck a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” I repeated for Masters’s sake.
“Managed to get past the general’s user code, but he’s running a program called Dungeon.”
“What’s that?”
“Dungeon is what it sounds like—a lockup, only one for your files. It’s a tough nut to crack. Four levels, each one trickier than the last to get through. The general has around one meg of files locked away—not a lot, really.”
“But he probably wouldn’t bother unless those files were important.”
“A reasonable assumption, Special Agent.”
“You going to be able to break into it?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll need a couple days for each level, maybe more. I can’t even guarantee I’m going to be able to crack the innermost levels.”
“Do what you can, Flight Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, ending the call.
“What’s up?” asked Masters.
“The general’s computer. All his files are locked in a kind of prison with no visitors allowed. Bishop’s starting to tunnel in, but he’s going to need time, and a file baked into a cake.” I rubbed my face with both hands. It felt good so I did it again.
“A what?” Masters looked confused.
“Never mind,” I said. “I’m just tired.”
“Yeah, you look dead on your feet, Cooper. Leave your car here and I’ll give you a lift back to K-town.”
“Sure, thanks.” I was hoping she’d offer, but didn’t want to ask. “You live in K-town?”
“Out on the edge where you’re less likely to get hit by a jogger.”
I folded my arms against my body and turned the heater up as we cleared the security post. Warm air funneled from the duct, making me more drowsy.
“So where is
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