Dick Stivers - Deathbites

Ti finished her high-speed rattling of the keyboard and then turned to Brognola with a smile.

"As a matter of fact, we both do, but not to each other. Machine language is more efficient."

"I don't recognize any of the standard programming languages on that screen."

Ti shook her head. "Not programming language. Too slow. Machine language, the language the computer regulates itself with. Machine language is both stronger and faster."

"I'll buy that it's faster. What's happening?"

"Just let me finish and the three of us will start speaking English."

She scanned the screen and her fingers danced again. In another minute she had exchanged two more screens full of information with the computer. She then paused and thought for a moment, before starting back on the keyboard.

"I've separated out the everyday transactions from the ones we're interested in," she said. "Can Aaron join us? I think we'll need his help."

Brognola went to the lab next door. There, Aaron "The Bear" Kurtzman was at a more conventional computer terminal, directing the daily running of Elwood Electronic Industries. Brognola had insisted that Kurtzman join him in Atlanta. He knew the Bear was going stir-crazy in his new job at Stony Man Farm.

"You know, Hal, running a company can be fun," the big man said. "I think I'll take over some company when I retire."

"That'll take a fair-sized investment."

Kurtzman looked at Brognola and shook his head.

"Oh, no. I'll just use a computer like this and take over a company. They'll never quite figure out how it all happened."

"Before you get your hand too deep in the till, Ti says we need your help next door."

When they returned to Ti's lab, she had a bunch of pseudo words on the screen. She continued to study them while Kurtzman maneuvered his chair to where he could also see the screen.

"You recognize anything?" she asked, without looking up.

"Where'd you get that stuff?" Kurtzman demanded. His usually soft voice was gruff.

"Entry codes used recently by someone on the WAR computer. This computer is monitoring theirs."

"Those codes reach all sorts of information, both restricted and classified."

Ti pushed her chair back from the workbench.

"You better take over. I may trip one of the safety devices. We need to go in there and find what WAR got from those computers. Whoever did it was shrewd enough not to store anything. I have a record of the stuff sent, but it would take ages to go through everything in the order they did it."

Kurtzman's hands moved over the keys. His eyes stayed on the screen. He never looked down to see what his hands were doing.

"Damn," he spat after minutes of work.

"Damn," Ti repeated.

They both sat looking glumly at the screen.

"The damn terrorists must have found the government access codes at one of the places they wiped out," the Bear told Brognola. "They've dug into the federal computers and gone straight for any grant money awarded that's blanketed by security. They now know where every research establishment that is important to the government is, and what they're working on."

"Crap," Brognola fired. "I want a map with the location of every office and branch that WAR has and all the research that's going on within a thirty-mile radius of each branch."

"You realize that their offices are near Silicon Valley, Bionic Valley, Route 128 and all the big research centres?" Kurtzman asked. "You're talking about over half the computer research that's happening in the U.S."

"If it's that big a job, you'd better get moving," Brognola growled.

"Aaron," Ti said, "if you start pulling out names and addresses on your computer, I'll raid civil defense for computerized city maps. Then you batch your information over here, and I'll have my computer mark the locations on the maps. Give me an importance rating of one to five. We'll assign them colors. When we're through, we can batch the information onto the company computer and have the plotter print it six-color on eleven-by-seventeen paper."

"You got it," the Bear told her.

July 13, 930 hours, Atlanta, Georgia

"Where are Louis, Rodrigos and Lobo?" Jishin demanded.

Lyons and Devine had not been summoned to report until the following morning. They stood facing her in the deserted recreation lounge.

"Who?" Lyons asked.

Jishin stared at Deborah, who raised her eyebrows. "Aren't they here?"

"No. They're not here. Yesterday they were sent to keep you two out of trouble. They haven't returned."

"Were they driving a beat-up pickup truck?" Lyons asked.

"Louis owns such a vehicle."

"We saw a beat-up truck following us when we were changing buses downtown. We didn't know who it was, so we ditched it," Lyons told the Japanese terrorist.

"Did you check the police and hospitals?" Deborah asked.

Jishin filled her lungs to say something and then let the breath back out again, slowly. "So what do our intelligence experts have to report?"

"Dr. Lao is just finishing a week off. She's due back at El wood next week," Lyons reported, using the story that he and Deborah had carefully concocted.

"How did you manage to find this out?" Jishin's voice quavered with suspicion.

Lyons flashed the wallet he had stolen.

"We went in there as building inspector and assistant. Looked the place over. Asked questions about an empty lab and got lucky with the answers."

"You seem to have an extraordinary amount of skill and background in these matters," Jishin commented.

"Never been caught yet," Lyons answered. He gave Jishin a broad wink. Her face remained expressionless, but there was no question that she could barely tolerate big-mouthed Carl Leggit.

"I think you two might have done a good job. If so, there'll be a bonus and you'll be made team leaders for the raid. I'm not passing final judgment until I hear from the three who were supposed to protect you.

"In the meantime, you'll stay in this building until the time of the raid. I'll be in Boston, but I'm leaving instructions with Jim Saint to shoot anyone who leaves this building without direct orders. He's commander in my absence. Is all that quite clear?"

When Jishin left the room, Lyons turned to Deborah and leered.

"If we're going to be confined to quarters, we may as well enjoy it," he said. His voice was loud.

He grabbed Deborah by the hand and almost dragged her to the men's bunk room. There was only one occupant. The rest were in classes.

Lyons pushed her toward his bunk and went to the other occupant of the room.

"Ten bucks if you get out and watch the door for fifteen minutes," he whispered in the man's ear.

The guy glanced at Deborah. "Only fifteen minutes, huh? Who are you fooling?"

"C'mon, you know we'll be missed if we stay longer."

The guy pocketed the money and left, a silly leer plastered on his face.

Lyons went over to another bunk and turned on a radio. Then he beckoned Deborah. She came into his arms.

He whispered in her ear. "I don't know if the place is bugged or not. I've got to get to a telephone with that Boston bit. You stay here and cover for me."

"Okay," she whispered.

Lyons went to one of the two windows in the room. It was fitted with heavy mesh, bolted to the window frame.

He propped the window open, stood back and aimed a series of front kicks at the lower corners of the mesh. Three minutes later, the bolts had been dragged right through the wood frame. Lyons forced his way out between the window ledge and the bottom of the screen.

Deborah went over to the window and examined the screen. The kicks had been well placed and had done little damage to the mesh itself. She pulled the screen back into place. Then she put some pennies on the sill and closed the window. Lyons would be able to put his fingers underneath to raise the window again. Deborah had an uneasy feeling, a feeling of doom. She wanted Lyons's tracks covered as well as possible.