Walter Williams - This Is Not a Game

Good, she thought.

Her handheld played “Harlem Nocturne,” and the display showed Charlie’s name.

“Where are you? ” she answered.

For the second day in a row, Charlie hadn’t come into the office-and today Karin wasn’t in, either, so Dagmar hadn’t been able to ask anyone where Charlie had gone.

“Right now? ” Charlie said. “I’m at home.”

“You haven’t been in your office.”

“I’ve got stuff to do.”

Dagmar figured she wasn’t going to get any more out of him than that.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” she said. “For starters, I had to have Great Big Idea swept for bugs.”

Somewhat to Dagmar’s surprise, there was a long, thoughtful silence on the other end.

“Probably a good idea,” Charlie said. “Did you sweep the rest of the building? ”

“I don’t think Joe Clever is interested in the rest of the building.”

“Joe Clever? ” Charlie’s surprise was palpable.

Again there was an awkward silence.

“Charlie,” she said, “whose bugs did you think I was trying to sweep? ”

Charlie gave a nervous laugh.

“I got paranoid when you started talking about Austin being killed by the Russian Maffya,” he said. “I thought-I thought maybe Austin did step on them in some way.”

“My recollection,” Dagmar said, “is that you had pretty comprehensively dismissed that possibility.”

“Well,” Charlie said, “it’s still damned unlikely.”

Dagmar wished she could see him face-to-face. He was hiding something, and his expression might have told her what it was.

“Did you find out anything at the meeting?” Dagmar said. “When you met with Austin ’s partners? ”

“No,” Charlie said. “No Maffya connections.”

“Are you sure? ”

“We didn’t talk about Austin’s projects in that kind of detail. We mainly talked about who we could get to take Austin’s place, and how we could manage the company until we got the replacement.”

“How’s that going? ”

“Karin and I are sitting in my living room cold-calling rich, busy, successful people. How do you think it’s going? ”

Dagmar laughed. “So that’s why you’re calling me. You figure I won’t hang up on you.”

“Partly to hear the friendly voice, yes. But I actually have business to discuss with you.”

“I’d better give you an update first.”

She told him about Joe Clever and his James Bond van, about how she’d nudged the players toward helping the police find Litvinov and how Lieutenant Murdoch had furnished the Ainars Vilumanis identity, which she’d then passed on to Joe Clever to post in his Consuelo guise.

She told him how she was planning on altering the structure to make Austin a character in the game. She’d tentatively decided that Austin the game character had been killed because he possessed a piece of information he didn’t know was important.

“Of course,” she added, “we can change that if we ever find out why he was really killed.”

“Sounds good, I guess.” Charlie paused. “I don’t know how I feel about using my friend’s murder as an element in an online game.”

“I know how I feel,” Dagmar said. “I feel like a complete shit.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “That’s how I feel, too.”

“But if it catches the guy…”

“Yeah. If.”

“If it weren’t for the game and Joe Clever, we wouldn’t have any idea who had killed Austin. We’d be completely in the dark.”

“To give the devil his due,” Charlie said.

“Set a devil to catch a devil,” Dagmar said. “That’s what we’re trying to do.”

Charlie’s voice turned weary.

“Well,” he said, “you did good.”

Something in Dagmar responded to the fatigue in his voice, and she felt her own exhaustion descend on her, weariness and sorrow that settled over her shoulders like a heavy cloak, its weight pinning her to her chair.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Listen,” Charlie said. “Why I called in the first place. The coroner is done with Austin, so his parents are flying in tomorrow to pick up the body. I’m going to be meeting them at their hotel. Do you want to be there? ”

She felt the sadness clawing at her vocal cords, turning them husky.

“Yes,” she said. “I suppose.”

“They’re going to bury Austin back in Bridgeport,” Charlie said. “I don’t know anyone there, and I’m swamped with work, so I’m not going to fly out there for the funeral. But do you think we should do something here? ”

“A memorial,” Dagmar said. “At Austin’s company, so it won’t be just the two of us and the Katanyans.”

“Good idea,” Charlie said. “I’ll call them and set it up.”

“Call everyone who knew him, whether they worked for the company or not.”

“It better be you who calls BJ,” Charlie said. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t take any calls from me.”

Surprise eddied through Dagmar’s veins. She hadn’t thought about inviting BJ at all.

Well, she thought, why not? BJ wasn’t on bad terms with Austin the way he was with Charlie.

“I’ll call him,” she said, and then couldn’t stop herself from adding another question. “You won’t mind if BJ’s there? ”

“I won’t like it,” Charlie said, “but I’ll remind myself that he’s poor and I’m not, and I’ll feel better.”

Dagmar hadn’t seen much of BJ since her return to California: she met him for lunch every three months or so, usually at an inexpensive diner so that BJ could afford to pay his half. He was very much the man she remembered: smart, quick, witty, easily distracted. She’d kept the conversation away from Charlie and AvN Soft, the company that BJ had cofounded and from which he’d been fired before it achieved success.

It was sad, that the man she remembered as being so brilliant had succeeded in nothing. She would have helped him if she could, but she couldn’t-there was no way Charlie would tolerate her hiring BJ for any of her projects.

His cell phone number was on her handheld and she dialed it. He answered on the third ring.

“Hi,” he said.

There were the sounds of clashing weapons and explosions in the background, electronic combat.

“BJ? ” she said. “Can you pause the game? ”

“No, I’m with a party and on real time. But go ahead and talk.”

His voice was fast and staccato, and Dagmar diagnosed too many cans of Red Bull.

“BJ,” said Dagmar, “did you hear that Austin was murdered? ”

For a long moment all she could hear were the sounds of combat, and she wondered if BJ had heard her. She was about to repeat herself when he spoke.

“No,” he said. “I hadn’t heard that. I guess I’ve been kind of busy.” His voice had slowed, as if shock had somehow knocked the Red Bull off-line.

“There’s going to be a memorial at Katanyan Associates in the next few days. Do you want to come? ”

“Yeah, but…” His voice faded away, and Dagmar heard a particularly violent explosion, followed by a series of gonging sounds. Then the voice came back.

“What happened to Austin? Who killed him? ”

Annoyance at BJ crackled through Dagmar. What did he think he was doing, continuing his game play in the face of this kind of news? She let the annoyance show in her voice.

“It’s too complicated to explain with you distracted,” she said.

“Okay. Sorry. This is how I make my living now, okay? ”

“Right.”

“I’ll call you tonight, okay? ”

“Fine.”

A tone of mischief entered his voice. “Is Charlie coming to the memorial? ”

“He’s organizing it.”

“Maybe I’ll mad-dog him from across the room.”

“No”-sternly-“you won’t.”