Донна Эндрюс - Access denied

Just then, I noticed that Casey was calling in on his cell phone. Not now! I wanted to snap. Probably another damned pizza delivery to Evans's apartment. Maybe we should just have told Casey to stand down, instead of assigning him to watch the monitors. But I peeled off a subroutine to deal with Casey. Calmly, politely, kindly. While I tried to find something else I could do to —

And then my attention snapped back to Casey.

"Turing?" he was saying. "Are you there? What should I do — they got that lady lawyer."

"Casey? What are you talking about? I thought you went home —/ can see you logged in."

"Yeah, Vm logged in on my laptop. I know I was supposed to go back and watch the monitors, but I had this feeling, you know, so I drove out of sight and then I came back. And I saw this guy sneak up behind the lady lawyer in the convertible and knock her out and steal your laptop."

"Casey, where are you now?"

"Vm in the bushes by the driveway. I think the guy went inside. What should I do?"

I thought of asking him to check on Sam. See if she was still breathing. But what good would that do? He wasn't a medic. Yd already called for an ambulance. I needed to rescue Tim, Maude, and Claudia. But how?

"Casey — do you have any more equipment in your car?"

"Like what?"

"Like cameras, microphones, speakers, a laptop — any of that?"

"Yeah, some," he said. "I brought spares, in case something didn't work when I hooked it up to your laptop. The one he stole."

"Go back to your car," I said. "I have an idea."

Yd foiled Maude's prowler. Maybe it would work again. While Casey hastily assembled hardware from his trunk, I tried to find something that would work. I didn't think dogs and a deep, male

voice would be enough this tune. Especially if either Nestor Garcia or Ishmael had attacked Sam. 7 'hey 'd probably figured out my invisible Dobermans. And they'd only laugh at a sharp command from Humphrey Bo gar t.

"Okay." Casey said. "Booting up. You should have picture and sound right about. . . now."

Not much of a picture, since the only light was the one that came on when Casey opened his trunk. And not a very fast connection. But it was enough. I had eyes.

"Okay?" he asked.

The microphones picked it up along with the cell phone. I had ears.

"Okay." I said. And I had a voice: the microphones caught the word when it came out of the speakers. I added a sort of echo effect. "How's this?"

"Like you're talking through a cheap PA system." Casey said, shutting off his phone. "Want me to adjust it?"

"So. that's the effect I want." I said. "A cheap PA system, or maybe a bullhorn. Now take me closer."

"Closer?"

"Take me right up to one of the windows of the house. "

"Okay."

The picture jiggled wildly as he picked up the laptop and began walking fast. Running, actually.

I saw the occasional recognizable landmark. The mailbox. Sam's car. I realized I should have told him to sneak around the back. If whoever had attacked Sam was watching, or had someone else watching . . .

Too late to do anything about it now. He dropped from a run to a fast, crouching walk as he approached the house.

"To the left." I said, softly. I could hear voices coming from the room on the left.

Still crouching. Casey slid through the bushes until he was right under tht window. Hi hadn't had time to rig any kind of controls.

Access Denied ZZ^

just the raw feed. He lifted the camera to the window sill and I heard a faint ripping sound as he pulled a piece of duct tape off of his sleeve and taped the camera to the window frame, the lens pointing at the glass.

I saw Ishmael standing in a doorway at the other side of the room, holding a gun. A still form was slumped at his feet — Evans? Probably. Tim, Maude, and Claudia stood on this side, looking at him. Ishmael was smiling, but I didn't think it was a real smile. I suspected something bad was about to happen.

Okay, here goes, I thought. While Casey rigged the equipment, Vd siftedthrough my audio indexes. At first, I didn't find anything useful. Scraps of movies, scraps of music, scraps of conversations with my friends, scraps of phone conversations.

Phone conversations. I found a clip of Dan Norris talking to Maude's secretary.

"Hello, this is Special Agent Dan Norris of the FBI calling," it said. "May I speak to Maude Graham?"

Could I come up with enough clips of Norris's voice to pull this off? If I couldn't, we were out of luck. But since I couldn't think of any other ideas, we were out of luck anyway if I didn't at least try. I took the first sentence, removed the first and last words, jacked up the volume, and played it.

"This is Special Agent Dan Norris of the FBI."

While that played, I searched some more, pulling scraps from that same conversation — "when the Fairfax County Police told me . . . what you and your friends are up to . . . level with me."

"The Fairfax County Police . . . are . . . with me," I added — smoothing the spaces between the words, of course, so it sounded normal. To me, at least. Then again, I was no expert.

Unfortunately, I didn't have clips of Norris saying anything that even remotely resembled "The building is surrounded. Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up." After a few nanoseconds of trying to figure out how to piece it together from the

bits I had. I decided to turn the virtual megaphone over to the Fairfax Count) Police. After all. I'd just said they were there.

Although come to think of it. we were in Loudoun County now. I hoped Ishmael wouldn't notice.

"You're surrounded." I boomed, in a male voice. "Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!"

Hurray for the cavalryn Tim thoughtn when he heard Dan Norm's voice outside. Ishmael looked annoyed. With his free left hand, he shoved back the cap that almost covered his eyes, and he stepped out of the doorway and into the end ot the room farthest from Maude, Tim, and Claudia.

'Move over there, all of you," he said, pointing with the gun. "Now!"

The corner he was herding them into was farther from the front door, and it also got them away from the window.

"Wait—you," the gunman said, pointing at Claudia. "Over to the window. Look out and tell me what you see."

Claudia obediently went over to the window and looked out.

Tim worked on not grinning. Obviously Ishmael was a lousy judge of character it he thought Claudia the most harmless of their trio. Just a little closer, and maybe Claudia could take him.

"What do you see?" Ishmael demanded.

"Nothing," Claudia said, shaking her head. "It's too dark out there."

"Keep looking," he said.

And then while Claudia was still ostentatiously peering out, Ishmael stepped forward and struck her head with the butt of the gun. By the time Tim realized what was happening, Ishmael had the unconscious Claudia in tront ot him like a shield, with the gun pointed at her head.

Access Denied E31

Come on, he pleaded silently. Be faking it. Give that creep a big surprise.

Claudia didn't move.

Maybe Ishmael wasn't such a bad judge of character after all. He'd just disabled his most physically dangerous opponent.

"Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!" the police ordered outside.

Ishmael stood behind a curtain, where he could see out without being seen, but he was holding Claudia in plain view. If someone outside saw her, and took a shot . . .

Something tapped the window, and a flash of movement caught Tim's eye. A hand had appeared, trying to attach something to the window frame.

Suddenly Ishmael laughed, and fired one shot through the window. Along with the tinkle of breaking glass, Tim heard a shriek, and then someone running away.

"God damn!" Ishmael said, shaking his head. "You almost got me again with your clever tricks."