F Wilson - Sims

“If Manassas owns a lot of company stock, then it’s logical for it to be involved in SimGen doings.”

“But logic seems to be taking a breather here. For instance, if you were an investment group with SimGen on your list and flush with capital, what would you be doing?”

“I’d be crowing. I’d have impressive offices to attract new ventures to underwrite.”

“Exactly. Yet Manassas Ventures’s only address is a deserted space in a nowhere building.”

“Almost as if they’re hiding.”

“They are. Behind Harold Golden. I believe Manassas invented him as a layer of insulation between itself and the truck rentals. And it almost worked. We were just lucky that our investigator asked the right questions on a day when someone at the leasing company was in a talkative mood. Otherwise, we’d never know the Manassas connection.”

“But why insulate itself?”

The tingle in Romy’s neck moved across her shoulders and down her spine. She sensed the situation moving beyond simply wrong…something sinister at work here.

Zero said, “Because I’m betting that Manassas Ventures has ongoing involvement with SimGen’s day-to-day workings that it doesn’t want anyone to know about. And the most likely reason for keeping an activity secret is that it’s illegal.”

“But SimGen is one of the richest corporations in the world, with a lock on a unique product”—she hated when sims were referred to as “product,” but this time it fit—“in high demand. They’re practicallyminting money. They’ve got it all. Why risk a connection to something illegal? It doesn’t make sense.”

“It does if whoever is behind Manassas Ventures is pulling strings inside SimGen. Pulling strings that lead to the basic research facility, perhaps?”

That struck a nerve…might explain the company’s adamant refusal to let OPRR near the building, even with a court order.

Zero went on and Romy could sense him fairly vibrating with anticipation. “If something illegal or even quasi-legal is going on, we may have found the lever to crack open SimGen’s wall of secrecy. All because you showed up earlier than expected.”

“And caught a worm.”

“Maybe a snake. I’d say Manassas Ventures is long overdue for an in-depth probe of its workings and personnel, wouldn’t you.”

“Anything I can do?”

“In regard to Manassas, no. But as for our friend, Patrick Sullivan—”

“Oh? So he’s ‘our friend’ now, is he?”

Romy sensed a smile behind Zero’s ski mask. “Not a close friend, not a bosom buddy, but…” His voice trailed off.

“But what?”

“I don’t know…there’s something about him. Maybe I’m feeling a little sorry for him because he’s going through the worst time of his life.”

“Really?”

“His girlfriend dumped him, his house is a charred ruin, he’s been living in a motel room for weeks, and SimGen is putting the screws to his career.”

Romy felt her interest growing. “How so?”

“They’re pressuring Sullivan’s clients to drop him.”

She shook her head in amazement. “How do youknow all this?”

“I have my sources.”

“You’re a SimGen insider. You’ve got to be.”

“Back to Mr. Sullivan?”

Romy tore her mind away from the tantalizing possibilities of Zero’s identity. Sullivan…his predicament did sound pretty awful, but the shyster deserved it.

“Don’t expect me to shed tears for any lawyer, especially one of the headline hunting variety who’s been taking those sims for a ride.”

“You’re assessment of him might be accurate, but I’ve got to hand it to him: He’s lost a number of big clients and he’s still hanging tough.”

“No kidding?” Romy was surprised. “I’d have thought he’d have folded like an old suitcase by now.”

“Well, I don’t expect him to hold up forever, so I believe it’s time we stepped in. And speaking of suitcases…” Zero lifted a large metal attaché case onto the table. “I’m hoping the contents of this will bolster his fortitude.”

He slid it toward Romy who released the catches and lifted the top. She repressed a gasp at sight of the stacks of currency.

“How much is in here?”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“What’s wrong with a check?”

“I feel a man like Mr. Sullivan—I am not blind to his failings—will require more concrete proof of the seriousness of our interest.”

Here was concrete, all right—a whole sidewalk. “How do I approach him?”

“Directly, I would think. I’ll leave the details up to you.”

Zero rose. A sign the meeting was over.

“But where do I say the money’s from?”

“Again, I leave that to your inventive mind. But since I know how lying bothers you, I’m going to make things easier. I’m giving the money to you, no strings attached.”

“You’rewhat ?”

“That’s right. To do with as you wish. Buy a house or a fleet of sports cars if you want. It’s all yours.”

As the shock wore off, she began to understand. “I see what you’re up to.”

Zero said, “But should you decide to approach Mr. Sullivan with it, I suggest being nice to him. You might find yourself spending a good deal of time with Mr. Patrick Sullivan.”

“I can hardly wait.” She snapped the lid shut on the money. “That’s it? You’re letting me walk out of here with a quarter of a million in cash?”

“Yourquarter of a million. Remember?”

Romy smiled. This was turning out to be not such a bad day after all.

2

THE BRONX

Needle Lady and Needle Man take Meerm upstair. Show room. Nice room.

“This is your new home, Meerm,” Needle Lady say.

“Why Meerm new room?”

“Because you’re a special sim.” Needle Lady smile Needle Man. “Very special.”

Meerm say, “All for self? Not share other sim?”

“All yours,” Needle Man say. “The rest of the sims will stay downstairs in the dorm room, just like always. But you’ll be here.”

Meerm walk and look. Nice bed, own bathroom, all for Meerm. Not need share. But Meerm little room still have metal bar window like sim big room downstair.

Meerm sit bed, hold out arm.

“What are you doing, Meerm?” Needle Lady say.

“Stick?”

Needle Lady smile. “No, Meerm, we won’t be taking any blood from you. Except for a tiny little bit now and then, you get to keep your globulins.”

No stick? This ver strange. Always Needle Lady and Needle Man stick-stick-stick. Take Meerm blood ev few day. Take-take-take. Now no stick?

“Meerm blood bad?”

Needle Man laugh, say, “Not at all! In fact, we’re very happy with what we found in it.Very happy.”

Own room. No stick. Meerm happy sim.

3

WESTCHESTER COUNTY, NY

OCTOBER 22

“Mr. Kraft wants to see you in his office,” Maggie said as Patrick passed her desk. The strained look on his secretary’s face told him the managing senior partner wasn’t requesting a social visit.

Patrick’s stomach roiled. Great. He was living out of a suitcase, Pamela wouldn’t return his calls, his clients were either bailing out—like Ben Armstrong who’d taken Jarman’s business to another firm with no explanation—or giving him ultimatums: Say good-bye to the sims or say good-bye to us. And now Alton Kraft was waiting for him. Just what he needed.

Well, at least things couldn’t get much worse. Or could they?

Patrick laid his briefcase on his desk and glanced around. His office was small, as was his window with its limited view of downtown White Plains. But that left extra wall space for his law books. He liked his office. Cozy. He wondered how long he’d be rating a window if his clients kept heading for the hills.