G. H. Stone: Fatal Error

Rome leaned over the table toward Jupe and Branson. His insane eyes glowed. “The only way you two’ll leave here is in body bags.” He laughed loudly. “ If your corpses are ever even found!”

Pete and Bob split up to explore the warehouse one last time. Bob was getting more and more discouraged. It seemed as if Jupe and Branson had simply evaporated. There wasn’t a trace of them anywhere. Bob was just heading out to the parking lot to check the delivery van for clues when he heard Pete’s voice.

It was low and urgent. “Bob! Come here. I’ve found something weird!”

Bob spotted Pete in one of the old-fashioned, wood-paneled office corridors. He was kneeling, holding something in his hand.

“I found it here,” Pete said, placing the likeness of Qute den Zorn on the floor on the other side of the arched alcove. “Do you suppose Qute dropped it yesterday?”

“Or maybe one of the publicity people had a box of them, and one fell out.” Bob scratched his blond head. “Wonder why the cleaning staff didn’t sweep it up.”

“Doesn’t make much sense,” Pete agreed.

“Wait a minute! What about Jupe?”

“Yeah! He’s been carrying his around since Qute gave it to him yesterday. I saw him looking at it this morning.”

“Maybe he’s trying to tell us he’s here somewhere!” Bob guessed, excited.

The guys prowled the corridor, listening at the doors and trying them again. But no luck. They wandered back to where Pete had found the tiny model.

“You don’t suppose… ” Pete said slowly as he ran his hands tentatively over the wood paneling.

“A hidden door?” Bob said as he joined Pete. “Why not!”

The guys felt the wood and the little grooves where the planks met, but there were no buttons or latches. Bob squatted down where Pete had found the replica. He looked around, and then up. Suddenly he noticed that where the wall met the ceiling a piece of crown molding was slightly darker in color, as if hands had touched it many times.

Bob leaped up and pulled on the molding. It slid down, and there was a quiet whirring as the back wall of the alcove inched inward.

“Amazing!” Pete said softly.

The guys stood back against the wall on either side of the moving panel. As the alcove opened wider, Bob’s heart pounded with anticipation. Once the whole secret entrance was open, they jumped inside.

“There’s stairs going down!”

But suddenly Norton Rome appeared at the top of the staircase. He pointed a big Walther straight at Pete’s heart! “Looking for somebody?” he snarled.

Pete stopped so suddenly that Bob slammed into him, shoving him straight toward pudgy, crazed Norton Rome. Pete reacted instantly. Instead of catching himself, he let himself crash on into Rome and knock aside Rome’s aim.

Rome’s gun exploded accidentally, blasting a huge hole in the wall. Splinters bit into Bob’s face.

“Bob! Pete! We’re here!” Jupe shouted from somewhere below.

Pete lunged once again for Rome. But Rome was a lot faster than he looked. He twisted away, which threw him off balance. It made him drop the gun.

“I’ll get you!” he bellowed. “Just you wait!”

As Rome scrambled on the landing for his gun, Bob shouted, “Come on, Pete!”

They tore out of the alcove. They heard Rome’s feet thunder after them.

As they pounded along the corridor Bob panted, “I’ve got an idea. Separate! You keep Rome busy in Club Dead. I’ll double back and free Jupe and Branson!

“You’re on!”

They dashed into Club Dead, leaving the door open. Only the rectangle of hall light illuminated the vast, packed room. Pete raced down an aisle among props and models while Bob circled behind the big chrome robot next to the door.

“I know you’re in here!” Rome bellowed as he stood in the doorway, his pudgy body trembling with rage. “You can’t get away from me!” He ran down a different aisle from the one Pete had chosen.

Immediately Bob slipped back out the door and ran to the office corridor. He pulled down the molding, and the alcove panel swung open.

“Jupe!” he called as he took the steps down two at a time.

In Club Dead, Pete had kept ahead of Norton Rome for more than ten minutes, but now he was in trouble.

Rome was crazy, but he was smart, too. He was slowly herding Pete toward a far corner of the room. Pete slid in and out among the costumes and props, trying to circle back, but Rome had an uncanny ability to guess what Pete’s next move would be.

“Where’s your friend, kid?” Rome snarled at Pete as he closed in. “I’m going to get rid of both of you at the same time!”

Suddenly pink, yellow, and blue strobe lights whirled and danced across the room. Pete saw Rome lift his head, startled. Then the big screen high on the wall clicked on with a high-speed car race that seemed to extend across the entire room. Calliope music filled the air. Horns honked. Tires squealed. The metal mask shot out of its box. A foot-stomping Sousa march played…

Club Dead was chaos.

“Hel-l-l-l-o-o-o!” came a loud groaning voice that seemed as deep as the Earth itself.

Pete watched in awe as the Grim Speaker sailed through the air—straight at Norton Rome!

Confused already, Rome froze to the spot. His mouth fell open, and his glittering eyes grew huge.

“You must take care of the Earth and all who dwell on it!” the Grim Speaker intoned. “Because you have not, the Grim Speaker predicts doom for you, Norton Rome !”

And then right next to Rome, the Grim Speaker dropped from the high overhead wire on which he’d sailed across the room. Beneath the green costume Pete caught a flash of athletic shoes — Jupe’s !

Instantly Pete raced toward Rome.

Bob bellowed, “Get him!”

They converged on Norton Rome at the same time. It was too much for his unstable personality. Like a fat, frightened puppy, Rome cringed back against a box labeled clay models. Quickly Pete grabbed his gun.

“Don’t!” Rome cried. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Branson shook his head at the pitiful sight of the pudgy programmer blubbering against the cardboard box. “I’ll call the cops.”

“Now tell us where the antidote is!” Jupe told Rome. “Oracle needs your antidote to kill the virus. Give it up now, and things will go easier for you!”

But Rome shook his head. “I want my money!”

“You’ll never get the money now,” Bob told him. “All you’re going to get is the slammer !”

“And they won’t let you near a computer,” Jupe promised. He pulled off the Grim Speaker costume and took a breath of air.

“I must have my computer!” Rome wailed. He wiped the back of his hand across his damp face. Suddenly a cunning look came into his eyes. “Let me go, and you can have the antidote!”

“No way, Jose!” Pete said, disgusted.

“The game’s up!” Bob added.

“Not my game!” said Rome with a flash of his old arrogance.

“Game… ” Jupe repeated. He pulled on his lower lip.

“What’s up, Jupe?” Bob asked.

“The game disk!” Jupe said. “That’s got to be it!”

“What?”

“You know the game disk Rome gave to my computer club?” When the guys nodded, Jupe went on. “Rome lives and breathes computers. Where else would he hide the antidote but somewhere connected to computers… like on a game disk!”

“That’s nuts!” Rome said in an almost normal voice. But his eyes darted crazily around the room.

“Rome, you’ve really blown it this time,” Jupe told him. “You thought you could store the antidote with my club, didn’t you? You knew your apartment would be searched. But when you put the antidote on the game disk, you transferred your virus, too. The master game disk and our copies are all wiped clean, so the antidote is gone !”