Fatal Error - Stone G. h. - Страница 13

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“He’s right, Pete,” said Bob.

Pete nodded. “I’d like to take Norton Rome’s temperature with my fist!”

“First we’ve got to find him.” Jupe said. “Or Greenjacket, and before they find us. Looks to me like they’re working together.”

“I’m with the program,” Bob said, and stood up. “But as long as we’re staying in tonight, I’ll make the changes in my Civil War paper. It’s in my car. I’ll be right back.”

Jupe opened a jar of peanut butter and Pete rummaged through the refrigerator.

“Nada,” Pete said. “The fridge is bare. We’re going to have to order in pizza.”

“Fine,” Jupe said, and licked peanut butter from his finger. “But eat it outside, okay? Watching you guys scarf down a pizza might make me kill!”

“Hey, no prob,” Pete said. “What kind do you want?”

“Anchovy, pepperoni, and onion,” Jupe said promptly, then caught himself. “What am I saying? Now hear this: No pizza for Jupiter! ”

Pete shrugged and grabbed the phone book.

“Speaking of pizza,” Jupe said as he dug in for more peanut butter. “Did you hear Ek talking about some missing junk food?”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Hey, guys!” Bob exclaimed as he burst into the workshop. “You’re not going to believe this, but guess who’s staked out the junkyard again?”

“Greenjacket?” Jupe said, jumping up.

“The same!” Bob confirmed.

Pete growled, “Let me at ’im!”

While Jupe trotted over to the office and killed the junkyard lights, Pete and Bob ran to the back of the yard. As soon as Jupe joined them, they lifted a couple of loose boards and slipped out into the shadowy night.

As they circled around toward the front, Bob whispered, “He’s across the street, hiding behind Aunt Mathilda’s hibiscus bush. You can see his white high-tops underneath.”

“Got it,” Pete said.

Pete directed Bob to the right and Jupe to the left. He’d take the middle. “Let’s get the creep!”

Pete squatted next to the junkyard fence, studying the hibiscus bush across the street. At last he saw a small movement, then the outline of a man, and finally the faint flash of Greenjacket’s white high-tops as he shifted weight. Beyond the lurking man stood Jupe’s house.

Pete glanced right as Jupe and Bob darted past Bob’s parked VW and out across the darkest part of the street. They slid into the cover of a couple of bushes. Pete gave Jupe a minute to circle around. Now Jupe and Bob were flanking Greenjacket on his side of the street. Whichever way the guy ran, the Investigators had him!

Like a finely tuned machine, Pete sprang up and barreled across the street directly toward the guy. Instantly Bob and Jupe closed in on him too.

Greenjacket quickly took in the situation and tore off at an angle between Pete and Jupiter. Smoothly Pete turned to intercept him.

With lightning power, Pete shot a mae-keage front snap kick at Greenjacket’s head. Now was the time for all his karate lessons to pay off.

But Greenjacket moved surprisingly fast himself. And he knew karate too! He ducked and spun into a yoko-geri side kick aimed directly at Pete’s chest. Pete blocked with a downward X block and started to deliver a shuto-uchisword-hand strike to the guy’s neck.

Greenjacket leaped nimbly backward. “I’ve got a gun!” he threatened. “Stay away!”

Pete peered through the gloom trying to spot the weapon.

“Where’s Norton Rome?” Greenjacket demanded.

Bob, closing in from the other side, couldn’t believe his ears. “Come again?”

“Tell me where Nort is,” the guy insisted, “or I’ll shoot!”

Pete saw that the guy’s left hand was empty, and his right hand was shoved in his jacket pocket. But the pocket bulge wasn’t the right size or shape for a gun. All the guy had in there was his fist!

“With what?” Pete snapped. “Your finger? Get him, guys!”

The Investigators lunged and took the guy down. But he didn’t resist. Slowly they untangled and stood up.

“Okay, mister, get up,” Bob said. “But no more tricks.”

Pete crouched down. “The turkey’s out cold!”

Worried, the other two Investigators leaned over the downed man.

Pete pressed an ear to his chest. “Heartbeat’s normal. Let’s get him inside where there’s some light.”

They carted Greenjacket through the junkyard to Jupe’s workshop.

“I think we blew it,” Jupe said as they stretched the guy out on the couch. “If he doesn’t know where Rome is, he’s probably not working with him.”

“Yeah, I thought about that too,” Bob said. “But why does he think we know?”

Just then the man groaned. He had a wide, freckled face. His eyes fluttered open. They were as black as his hair. “You haven’t found Nort either?” he said, disappointed.

“Now wait a sec, dude,” Pete said. “Forget the innocent act! You’re the guy that tried to waste Jupe with a microwave cart.”

“In Nort’s apartment?” The man sat up and felt his head. “But — I had to… Is he Jupe?” He pointed at Jupiter, and when Pete nodded he continued. “I figured he’d come into the kitchen to find me, so I had to scare him off.”

“Who tried to pulverize us with the spaceship?” Jupe shot back at the stranger. “You were the only person at Oracle who had it in for us!”

“In the first place,” Greenjacket said, “I’ve got no beef with you. All I wanted was for you to lead me to Nort. I’ve been hunting for him all over. And as for who zapped you at Oracle… that might’ve been Nort. I spotted Nort in the crowd today. I was following him when you started chasing me, Jupe. You made me lose him!”

“I did?” Jupiter said. “Norton Rome was there? ”

“Don’t know what he thought he was doing,” the guy went on. “But there are so many employees at Oracle that he probably figured he could dodge Ek if he kept his eyes open.”

Jupe pulled on his lower lip, a sure sign that he was thinking hard. “Maybe we should trade information,” he said at last, and stuck out his hand. He introduced all of them. “You obviously know Rome, but what were you doing at Oracle?”

The guy shook hands with each Investigator. “My name’s Branson Barr, and I’m a programmer at Oracle, same as Nort. In fact, I used to be Nort’s friend, until he went off the deep end. This all started because he and I made up a computer game to play on our breaks. We called it Mock War.”

“You mean, battles with aliens or something?” Pete said.

“No, Mock War’s a series of battles between opposing armies of computer programs,” Branson explained.

“Were the programs viruses?” Jupe asked.

Branson shook his dark head. “Like viruses. Our Mock War programs were designed to kill only each other, usually by devouring the other guy’s instructions. You won if you had the most programs at the end. But Mock War wasn’t dangerous because when we finished playing, we’d erase the killer programs from our computers’ memories.”

“How could Mock War lead to blackmail?” Bob wanted to know.

“It’s because Nort’s a greedy son of a gun,” Branson said angrily. He stood up, stretched, and stalked around the workshop. “He used to ask me how come a smart guy like him wasn’t rich? He said working a job was too slow, a sucker’s game. Then one night while we were playing Mock War, he got the idea of using a virus to put the bite on Oracle.”

“Blackmail!” Pete said.

“Exactly.” Branson sat down on the couch again. “Nort’s wild, unpredictable. So I figured he was kidding. Brother, was I wrong! I found that out Saturday when Ek called me. He was frantic. Oracle’s system was infected, and they’d got a blackmail message from Nort. When I tried to untangle the virus, I discovered it was a lot more complex than anyone realized. I knew we’d lose everything unless we got the antidote.”

“So you went looking for Rome,” Jupe said.

“And I still haven’t tracked him down,” he said. “Time’s running out. Ek’s supposed to get a phone call tomorrow night before midnight to tell him where to deliver the five million dollars!”

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