John Saul - Shadows

Taking the single circuit board with him, he went back into the den and studied the third drawing, a schematic drawing of the circuit board itself.

Reaching into the pocket of his bathrobe, Jeff pulled out the cable he’d purchased at Radio Shack that afternoon and plugged it into a port at the back of the computer.

He studied the drawing once more, then compared it to the circuit board now sitting on the desk next to the computer’s keyboard.

He carefully attached the leads on the end of the cable to connectors on the circuit board, then typed into the keyboard:

I’M HEADY FOR THE PROGRAM.

A moment later the screen cleared, and then a complex program appeared. Jeff studied it carefully, scrolling down until he found the section he was looking for.

He deleted two lines of instructions, replacing them with two new ones.

He pressed the Enter key, and a message popped up in a window:

REPROGRAM CHIP? (N) Y

Jeff pressed the Y key, then the Enter key. For a moment he wasn’t sure anything had happened, but then another message appeared in the window:

REPROGRAMMING VERIFIED.

Jeff detached the cable from both the circuit board and the computer, shoved it back in his pocket, then, without bothering to type a last message to Adam, turned off the computer.

Hurrying back to the garage, he reinstalled the circuit board in the electronics box under the hood, then closed the hood for the last time. The three sheets of paper joined the cable in the pocket of his bathrobe.

He switched the garage lights off, slipped back into the house, and was about to start back upstairs when he heard a movement overhead.

Footsteps.

He froze for a moment, then knew what to do. Turning on the kitchen lights, he opened the refrigerator and quickly pulled out a jar of mayonnaise, a block of cheese, and the mustard. By the time his father appeared in the kitchen doorway a few seconds later, he was already in the process of making himself a sandwich. Glancing over his shoulder, Jeff forced a guilty-looking grin.

“Caught me,” he said. “You gonna tell Mom I was sneaking a sandwich, or should I make you one, too?”

Chet hesitated, then returned his son’s grin. “Make me one, too. If we both get caught, well take our punishment like men.” He pulled a quart of milk out of the refrigerator, poured them each a glass, then sat down at the kitchen table. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Jeff shrugged. “Uh-uh.”

“Maybe you could if you just got all this off your chest and put it behind you. I’m not saying what you did wasn’t lousy, but it’s not the end of the world, either. All you have to do is own up and tell me who helped you, and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said, his voice edged with anger. “And I’ll still be grounded for the rest of my life, and won’t be able to go back to the Academy, right?”

“There’s no point in talking about that until you decide to confess to what you did.”

“What if I don’t?” Jeff challenged. “What if I won’t tell you?”

“Then I suppose you’ll sit in the house for a while,” Chet replied amiably, refusing to give in to the anger that was rising in him at his son’s insolence. “But I’m not backing down on this one, Jeff. You can tell me tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. But you’re going to tell me.”

Jeff picked up his sandwich. “And a minute ago I was thinking maybe you weren’t so pissed off at me anymore,” he said sourly. “Your sandwich is on the counter. I’m taking mine up to my room.”

Almost involuntarily, Chet rose half out of the chair. All he wanted to do was grab Jeff by the back of the neck and shake him: Shake him until he apologized for what he’d done to his mother, apologized for the way he’d been talking to him, apologized for the whole attitude he’d been displaying lately.

But he didn’t. Instead he thought of Jeanette. Tonight, for the first time since Adam had died, she was sleeping peacefully. If he confronted Jeff now, it would only wake her up and deprive her of what little rest she was getting.

He held his peace, took a bite of his sandwich, tried to chew it, then spit it out into the garbage disposal and tossed the rest of it in, too.

Sometimes, being a father was the most difficult thing in the world, he decided as he turned the kitchen lights off and started back upstairs. Yet despite the way Jeff had been acting since Adam died, he still loved the boy. They would get through this. Things would get better again.

In the end, they would wind up being as close as a father and son should be.

In his room, Josh stared at the file on the screen of his computer. He didn’t know exactly what it meant or what it was for.

-&it he knew where it had come from.

All evening he’d peen accessing computers, searching for some trace of Adam Aldrich or Any Carlson.

Until a few minutes ago he had had no success whatsoever.

And then, on a whim, he’d decided to try to hack into the computer at the Aldriches’ house.

He’d found the number in Jeff’s desk in the room next door. When he’d tried to call it, the line was busy.

Which meant someone in the house was already using the modem.

Jeff?

His heart suddenly racing, Josh had gone to work, hacking directly into the computer at the telephone switching station. A minute after that he’d succeeded in tapping into the Aldriches’ modem line.

And recorded the file that was now on his computer screen.

Just a few lines, which looked like Adam and Jeff were talking to each other, doing something with some kind of program.

Then there was a mass of what looked to Josh like nothing more than gibberish.

Then one more line:

REPROGRAMMING VERIFIED.

Reprogramming of what? What did it mean?

He shut off his computer, the words still etched in his mind.

Reprogramming verified .

The words, in the darkness of the night, seemed somehow ominous.

Ominous — and dangerous.

“It’s almost five-thirty,” Chet said, draining the last of A his coffee and putting the cup in the sink. “If we’re going to be at the Brodys’ by six, we’ve got to get going.”

“Maybe I ought to call Frieda and cancel,” Jeanette suggested. “I’m not sure I want to leave Jeff by himself. When he wakes up—”

“We’ll be leaving him by himself all day,” Chet reminded her. “And if we don’t go, it’s just letting him manipulate us one more time. Besides, Curt and Frieda are leaving for London this afternoon. That was the whole point of the game this morning, remember? It’s been planned for a month — a bon voyage match, which I intend for us to win.”

“I know,” Jeanette sighed. “It’s just—”

“We’re going,” Chet declared, his tone leaving no more room for argument.

Jeanette knew he was right — she’d been looking forward to the game this morning as much as Chet had. The whole idea of getting up at dawn, driving up to Stratford and playing a set of tennis before work had seemed like a lark when they’d set it up last month. Indeed, they’d even talked about making it a regular thing after Curt and Frieda Brody got back from their trip. “Great way to fight off middle age,” Curt had said, to which Chet had darkly replied that it was an equally great way to drop dead of a heart attack before breakfast. “Well, at least let me go wake him up and say good-bye,” she said.

Chet hesitated, then decided to tell her what had happened the previous night As she listened to his retelling of the conversation he’d had with their son, her face paled and she bit her lip. “If you want to let him ruin your morning with his attitude, I suppose I can’t stop you,” he finished. “But right now, I’d just let him sleep. By the time we get back, he’ll be up, and I might have had enough exercise that I can control my temper if he gets snotty again.”