Г. Х. Стоун: Fatal Error

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!”

“Which means we’ve got only one day to find him!” Bob said.

Branson Barr nodded. “Now, what about you? Have you seen Nort?”

“Rome almost rubbed us out a couple of hours ago,” Pete said, and described the pickup’s attack.

“That is one scary guy,” Bob said.

Branson slammed a fist into the palm of his hand. “I wish I could get my hands on him! He’s wrecking everything just to make himself rich!”

Jupiter stood and paced around the shack, pulling on his lower lip again.

“What gives, Jupe?” Bob prompted.

“Oracle’s the key,” Jupiter said at last. “Rome must’ve spotted me there. Maybe he thought I’d seen him, too, and that I’d tell Ek. That means Rome could’ve been the one who destroyed the spaceship. When that didn’t wipe us out, he came after us in his pickup.”

“Sounds right to me,” Bob said.

“Anyway, Oracle’s our only lead,” Jupe went on. “If Rome was there today, maybe he’ll show up tomorrow. ” He crossed the room and came back to stand in front of the little group.

“It’s time we had a plan,” he announced. “Now, listen. This is what we’ll do… ”

On Tuesday morning Jupiter sat in his electronics workshop and screwed together the heavy plastic cases for two walkie-talkies. He’d just added power boosters to each, kicking them up from two to five watts.

“You sure you know what you’re doing, Jupe?” Pete called from the grease pit. He and Bob were painting signs for the Ford delivery van.

“Does an atom have electrons?” Jupe said huffily.

As Pete and Bob chuckled, Branson Barr entered the junkyard carrying a stack of six enormous bakery boxes.

“I got enough for a battalion,” Branson said cheerfully. “Doughnuts, sweet rolls, and croissants. The junk-food freaks at Oracle will go crazy.” He loaded the boxes into the back of the van.

“Great!” Bob said as he and Pete hefted one of their signs.

“Gangway!” Pete ordered, and they carried the sign to the van and held it up against the van’s side.

“Is it straight?” Bob asked.

Jupiter came outside and studied it. On the sign’s left, a painted coffee cup and doughnut danced. On the right, pink icing dripped over chocolate-brown words: Snax Galore at Your Door!

Jupe’s stomach rumbled as he thought of the bakery goodies. Quickly he peeled a banana to ward off temptation. “Looks straight to me,” he said, and bit off a chunk. “Ought to convince everyone we’re really a coffee-and-doughnuts truck.”

“By the time we finish,” Bob promised, “we will be. Let’s bolt it on, Pete.”

As the guys attached the signs to either side of the delivery van, Jupiter’s Uncle Titus staggered up with a big coffee maker. “What a find this was!” he enthused. “Do you know how few coffeepots there are that can operate out of a car’s cigarette lighter?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Darn few. That’s how many!”