by Tom Clancy
Matt held up a hand as Gerald Savage lumbered forward. “I haven’t told anybody—yet. But there are files out in the Net, ready to be opened if, say, something happened to me.”
The big jeweled figure turned its anger on Caitlin. “How did he get it out of you?” he demanded, his voice grating. “How?”
“She had nothing to do with it!” Matt shouted. “I rounded you all up with data searches. It was easy enough — if you knew what to look for.” He spread his arms. “What more do I need to do to show you that I can pull my weight in this bunch?”
Lucien Valery switched from his frog to his swordsman shape. “Why should we trust you?” he asked, his lip curling.
“For the best reason of all,” Matt shot back. “Because now you have to.”
He looked at the four unmasked thrill-seekers. “I gave you everything you asked for — and a bit more, I’d say. You guys think you’re something special — well, maybe not.” Matt took a deep breath, still pushing. “You can be found — so why not face facts and make me a full partner?”
Chapter 11
From his previous meetings, Matt figured there were two possible reactions from the virtual vandals. Either they’d try to kill him, and he’d have to pull the plug quickly — after his first meeting with this merry group, he’d set a panic button into his programming, just in case. Or they’d cut his connection, leaving him out in the cold.
Luckily, he guessed right. Even more luckily, they went with reaction number two.
Spangles of neon light spun around Matt with dizzying speed as he tumbled through the Net. His stomach heaved as if he were being whirled about in a high-speed carnival ride. Whoever taught this little trick to those rich kids had a nasty sense of humor. Matt would have been lost in the Net for hours, after blowing his virtual lunch all over the place. He’d have a hard enough time finding his way home, much less ever tracing where he’d been.
That is, he should have had a hard time. Instead, he had a little golden thread in his hands as he slowed down and straightened himself out.
Matt had been expecting to be blown out. That was why he’d worked so hard on the special program he’d worked into the key icon. It had spun the golden thread he could now follow back to the virtual vandals’ little clubhouse.
Pulling himself hand over hand, Matt began to retrace his path. The thread was incredibly thin, the barest glimmer of color in his hands. Out in the real world, wire or fishing line this fine would have sliced through his fingers. In the virtual world of the Net, each pull on the line accelerated his speed back to whatever node the rich kids were using.
Still, he was moving more slowly than he had when he and Caitlin had bounced their way in here. Matt could see now that the neon glare of the Web was growing dimmer.
Of course! he thought. Dead storage.
The virtual landscape changed into a vista of regularly spaced mounds with a dim firefly glow. Row after row of them spread out ahead, warehouse units for old records and seldom-used data. Matt couldn’t help the morbid thought that the data-dumps looked like a cemetery full of freshly dug graves.
Once again, the genius had shown his or her cleverness, hacking into dormant systems to create a personal chat room that would never be discovered unless someone asked a university library for some obscure study on Arctic butterflies, or tried to chase down some ancient piece of genealogy.
But Matt couldn’t hold back a feeling of anger at the selfishness the Genius was showing — the rich kids, too. In creating their little meeting place, who knows what data had been erased?
More importantly, who knew if there were backup copies? That data could be lost forever!
Well, Matt was sure of one thing as he followed the golden thread over the information mausoleums. He’d managed to identify the four virtual vandals. But he still had no legal proof against them. And unless Serge Woronov turned out to have unexpected computer skills, Matt still couldn’t identify whoever was behind them — the shadowy figure he thought of as the Genius.
An unpleasant thought made him stop in his progress. Could the vandals themselves not know who was giving them technical support for their midnight visits? In this world of proxies, the Genius could appear with any face when he dealt with the rich kids.
Then there was no more time to stop and think. The golden thread angled downward, toward one of the dump sites. Matt put on speed. This would be the test of his programming. If he’d done it right, he’d give the virtual vandals the shock of their young lives.
If not, the program would crash and he’d be home with another killer headache.
The low-lying mound rose up in front of him like an artificial hill.
Matt hit it — and went through!
He’d been afraid that the vandals might have left their meeting place while he was gone. But the four kids were still in the white room, arguing at the top of their lungs.
“Why can’t we let him help us?” Cat Corrigan pleaded.
“You know bloody well why!” Gerald Savage sounded as if he’d heard Cat’s line once too often. “D’you think you-know-who is going to jump up and welcome him with open arms?”
“How odd — you’re the one always telling us that you’re not afraid of…our friend,” Luc Valery sneered.
“And what friend is this?” Matt asked.
Their reactions would have been funny — if they hadn’t been so dangerous. Serge’s cowboy proxy leapt into the air as if he’d been goosed by an electric eel. But he was also twisting and bringing his huge gun up to aim. Gerry the Savage looked like a big jeweled fish as his mouth dropped open. Then he roared with fury and stomped forward, fists raised.
Luc Valery morphed into his swordsman form and unsheathed his blade. Caitlin just stared at Matt as if she’d seen a ghost — or perhaps a ghost-to-be. “I told you not to push them,” she said in a hollow voice.
“Okay, I’m completely convinced of how tough you are,” Matt said sarcastically as he faced murderers’ row. “Maybe now you can think of using your heads instead of your fists.”
He stared up at Gerald Savage, who seemed to be the leader — at least he was the most angry. “I don’t know why you get so bent out shape whenever I show how I can be useful to you people — or did you think you were the only people on earth who could drop system trapdoors behind themselves?”
“You see?” Caitlin cried, as if he were proving her argument. “He knows this stuff, and we don’t. Suppose he could help us.”
“Enough of that!” Gerald Savage cut her off. His voice came out in a deep growl, but at least he wasn’t moving to pound Matt…yet.
“Sorry, Yank, but the position’s taken — by a very dangerous sort of chap — person.”
“Still, it sounds as if you could use me.” Matt turned to the others, pretending he hadn’t heard Savage’s slip. Now he’d learned two things by coming back. The Genius wasn’t one of the four kids who actually did the raids. And the Genius was a very dangerous sort of chap, as Gerald had been about to say. That meant that the Genius, whoever he was, was male.
That narrows it down to half the population, Matt thought sarcastically. If I stay alive long enough, maybe I’ll pick up a few more clues.
“Perhaps we could use someone with your abilities,” Luc Valery said, suddenly taking sides with Caitlin. “But if others are afraid….”
“I’m not afraid!” Gerry Savage raged. “And I’ll show you! We’ll hit the Net right now — and pay a little visit to Sean McArdle’s veeyar.”
“B-but we’re not supposed to—” a surprised Cat Corrigan began.
Gerald didn’t let her finish, drowning her voice out with his. “Blow all that!” he shouted furiously. “I want a chance at that jumped-up little Paddy, and I’m going to take it — you follow?”
Luc, still in his swordsman proxy, gave the British boy a thin smile. “Since you put it so charmingly.”
Serge Woronov’s cartoon cowboy tipped back his hat and shrugged. “If everybody else
is going, I reckon I’ll come along.”
Gerald whirled his hulking proxy around to loom over Matt. “You’ll come along, too, won’t you, Mr. Oh-So-Clever Yank? Do your bit? Be right there in the thick of it with the rest of us?”
Then he turned to Caitlin, his voice cold and cruel. “Happy now, luv? We’ll see just how much help your new friend can be.”
The Savage thrust out a jeweled hand toward a shelf on the wall. A dozen or so icons lay scattered across it.
“Find yourself a proxy, and we’ll get going.”
Cat Corrigan seemed pale as the walls while she selected an icon. Activating the program, she became taller and older — a pale-skinned woman with waist-length black hair and a flowing black gown. Her eyes seemed to gleam from within, and her lips were a shocking shade of red. And when she opened them — she had fangs!
She’d chosen to go as a vampire!
“Excellent choice,” Luc Valery complimented her. Matt noticed that the French boy was staying in his swordsman form.
Luc smiled as he noticed Matt’s eyes on him. But it wasn’t a friendly expression. “In my country, the laws are somewhat different from your American Constitution,” the young swordsman said. “The police are allowed to use agents provocateurs—spies who can push people to commit crimes. They get off scot-free, even if they commit those crimes as well.”
He ran a practiced hand over the hilt of his sword. “You didn’t push the Savage to go off on this little adventure. But if you try to betray us, then blood will flow for the vampire, eh?”
Matt forced himself to laugh. “Right. I look like a cop, don’t I?”
Luc laughed just as mirthlessly. “In this world of masks, who knows the truth?”
“If you two are finished with the philosophy, you can join the circle,” Gerry Savage said. The others had already gathered around him.
Matt noticed that the English boy had somehow shrunk his jeweled proxy. He wasn’t a giant anymore, just a large human — say, about the size of a high school football linebacker. In his palm, Savage held an icon whose glow clashed with his bejeweled glitter. It was in the shape of an arrow, and it gave off a poisonous green radiance that reflected off Gerald’s gemstone hands. As they stood around him, all their faces were speckled with mirrored pinpoints of sickly green — as if they’d all caught some terrible disease.
Could that be it? Matt wondered, thinking of the destruction these kids had left behind their previous little adventures. And had Matt himself caught the virus? Because here he was, ready to go along with this wrecking crew. Yes, he was trying to win their trust so that they could be stopped. But he had to admit that he felt a certain excitement….
“Link up,” the Savage commanded.
Matt glanced around. If he didn’t go along, the vandals might well jump him. And even worse, he’d blow his chance to get in solidly with them and perhaps discover the mastermind who was pulling their strings.
He took a deep breath. “Count me in.”
Caitlin grabbed Matt’s left hand, clutching tightly. Luc took his right.
The green glow blazed up as if the little icon were truly on fire. Luc and Serge each seized one of Gerald’s elbows. The room faded around them, and all of a sudden, they were rocketing across the Net.
Matt had half expected them to shoot across the sky like a vast green comet. But apparently they were stealthed. They seemed to give off no light, and the neon glare of the virtual constructs all around their flight path didn’t reflect off them, either. Not even Savage’s jeweled body caught any gleams from the blazing collections of computer imagery they passed.
The area began to look familiar, and Matt realized they were approaching the modernistic virtual office tower that housed the Irish embassy’s bit of cyberspace.
As they came up to the glowing wall, Matt had a sudden unwelcome thought. What if Captain Winters and Net Force had warned embassy security about the trapdoor they’d discovered in the copy of Sean’s veeyar programming? They could be flying right into a trap!
Well, he thought, I guess this would finally convince the captain that there’s a diplomatic connection to this vandalism. After he gets over his stroke about me being along for the ride.
It might end up with Cat and her friends getting nailed for their lawless activities.
But would the Genius be able to recruit a new bunch of bored kids to keep the vandalism going?
Too late to worry now. They approached the wall of light — and flashed right through. A couple of seconds routing along the system, and they arrived in Sean McArdle’s veeyar. The space was just as large as it had been at his press conference. But now the cavernous space had been turned into a library.
Matt looked around in amazement. A high arched ceiling was held up by two-story-tall carved wooden bookcases. There were just too many details for this to be made up. Sean must have based the veeyar on a real location — maybe someplace famous in Ireland.
Then Matt saw the ornate wooden desk at the far end of the big room — with a surprised-looking Sean McArdle behind it.
“What—?” he began.
“Trash the place!” Gerry Savage commanded, charging straight for the Irish boy.
Whooping like savages on the warpath, Luc and Serge set to work. Luc’s long, thin blade seemed more like a wrecking bar or a buzz saw as he sliced through the delicate wood carvings. Serge unholstered his cartoon six-gun and started blasting away. From the holes it was making, the silly-looking weapon must have been loaded either with buckshot or small mortar shells. And it had the typical cartoon-gun’s capacity. Matt counted Serge squeezing off fourteen shots without having to reload.
The boys managed to cut through one of the graceful pillars supporting the weight of the bookshelves above. The small walkway began to sag.
“Here it comes!” Luc shouted gleefully. He and Serge scampered out of the way as an entire portion of the huge bookcase gave way, crashing down and spilling volumes across the floor.
“Gather ’em up!” Serge called to Matt and Caitlin. “Pile ’em, while we find something to make a real campfire!”
But neither Matt nor the girl moved toward the books. Both whirled as they heard a cry of pain from behind them.
Gerald Savage had reached the desk — and Sean McArdle. The Irish boy was wobbling on his feet beyond the beautiful wooden construct. He was blinking his eyes and cradling the side of his face.
Even from a distance, Matt could see the large, red handprint on Sean’s cheek.
The Savage, however, was ignoring Sean just for the moment. He swept a glittering arm across the desktop, disrupting the ordered ranks of icons — Matt had never seen so many for a single computer. Program markers tumbled to the floor, and Savage ground them under his feet.
“You bog-trotting baboons think you can run the world because you know computers.” Savage made the last word sound like an obscenity. “Strutting around as if you were the best of the earth — when you’re nothing but a bunch of traitors to the Crown!”
Sean may have been hurt and scared, but he still answered. “We were saddled with England for eight hundred years, to be beaten, starved, and treated like animals. We’ve been free little more than a hundred years, reunited less than twenty — and we’re doing quite well without your moth-eaten Crown, thank you.”
With a wordless roar, Savage hurled the desk aside. It toppled and shattered. Then he started advancing on Sean McArdle.
Matt raced down the length of the half-ruined library as fast as his legs would take him. Sean was tall, but built like a string bean. The massive Gerry Savage could take him apart.
And they know how to hurt people in veeyar, Matt suddenly thought in horror.
Savage was still only slapping Sean around when Matt reached them. But the Irish boy couldn’t even defend himself. He was wobbling on his feet.
And when he went down, Savage pounced, his hands going for a stranglehold.
“Are you crazy?” Matt demanded, trying to haul Sa
vage off.
For a reply, Savage merely swept a heavy arm into Matt’s chest.
It felt like being hit by a pebble-studded wrecking ball. He stumbled backward, trying to breathe.
Soft hands caught Matt, holding him up. It was Cat Corrigan.
“You’ve got to do something!” The face of her vampiress proxy was a mask of terror. “He’s going to kill that boy!”
Chapter 12
What do you think I can do? a frantic voice screeched inside Matt’s skull. Savage has all the advantages in a fight. He’s bigger, stronger, and he can hurt people in veeyar. I can’t.
Hurt People…The mental words seemed to echo as Matt grabbed Caitlin by the arms. “I’ll try,” he said, “but you’ve got to help me.”
“Help?” Cat was almost babbling. “How?”
“Give me a hand.” Matt went to the wreckage of Sean McArdle’s virtual desk, hauling out a large, splintered slab of wood. Caitlin joined him as he dragged it to where Gerry Savage was single-mindedly strangling the Irish ambassador’s son.
“Okay,” Matt panted. “I’m letting go. You make this fall on Savage, then jump on it.”
“Me?”
“You can hurt him — I can’t,” Matt yelled. “Now, just do it!”
He released the piece of wreckage. For a second it wobbled. Then Caitlin threw her weight against it. The heavy wooden desk fragment seemed to fall in slow motion. But Gerry the Savage didn’t even seem to be aware of it — until it landed across his back.
Savage felt the impact, even through his jewel-tough skin. He screamed in pain, then screamed again as Caitlin leapt onto the piece of wreckage now pinning him.
Grunting, Savage levered himself around. One good heave freed him from the wooden wreckage — and sent Caitlin flying.
Matt managed to catch her and keep her on her feet. But his eyes were focused beyond Savage, on Sean McArdle. The Irish boy scrambled up, one hand on his throat. The instant he realized he was free, he vanished from the veeyar.
