by Ben Bova
But he knew that Jace hardly ever drank and never used even recreational drugs. Doesn't need them; he gets high on his own simulations.
Then Dan realized that Jace's bike was nowhere in sight, He walked around the bungalow, nearly stumbling over some junk piled up in the backyard where the distant street lights were shadowed by the trees. No bike.
He must be at the lab.
Sure enough, Jace's scrofulous bicycle was leaning was leaning against the wall next to the rear door as Dan parked along the dimly-lit loading platform.
But Jace was not in the rear of the building nor in the Wonderland VR chamber. Puzzled, Dan hurried along the corridor to Jace's office, barely noticing as he passed the computer center that two of the mainframes were busily humming and blinking. Jace's office was empty, except for the usual snowdrifts of papers.
Dan went to his own office, glancing at his wristwatch, figuring he'd phone home again and see if anything had developed.
Jace was stretched out on the black leather couch, snoring softly. He had put on a clean tee shirt, sky blue with white script lettering: Who Dares Wins.
Dan rapped his knuckles against the sole of one of Jace's worn boots. "Hey! Wake up!"
Jake's eyes popped open. "I wasn't asleep."
"The hell you weren't." Dan went to his desk. He wanted something to lean on, something solid to keep him from grabbing Jace by the throat and throttling him. I need him now, he told himself. I have to get him to help me.
"I wasn't," Jace insisted, swinging his legs to the floor and sitting up straight.
"You were snoring."
"That doesn't mean I was asleep."
He's already moving me off the subject, Dan realized. "Never mind that," he said, sitting in his desk chair. "I want your help."
Jace gave him a suspicious look. "Why should I help you?"
"Because I'm asking you to."
"You were ready to hand me over to the cops a couple hours ago."
"The sonofabitch has kidnapped my daughter, Jace!"
"Huh? Whattaya mean?"
"Muncrief took Angie from school. They've been missing since three-thirty."
Jace looked away from Dan and muttered, "He can't hurt her."
"How do you know that? How do You know?"
"Look, you think I'd give him a program that could hurt anybody? I'm not that dumb."
"What makes you think he's using a VR program, Jace? He's got Angie in his hands, for Chrissake!"
But Jace just shook his head. "I know the bastard better'n you do. He's not hurting your kid."
"Jace . . ." Dan felt his hands clenching into fists. "Didn't you see the mainframes perkin' away in the computer center? Who d'you think is usin' them at this time of night?"
"Muncrief?"
"It ain't the Wizard of Oz."
"Where is he?"
A shrug. "I don't know."
"But you said—"
"He doesn't tell me everything, pal. I don't know where the hell he is, but wherever it is he's got a processor and a phone link. Probably a DEC mini and an optical fiber line."
"Christ, he could be anywhere."
"Guess so."
"Help me find him, Jace."
"Why should I?"
Dan's first impulse was to yell, Because you've helped him set up this simulation that's based on my daughter, you stupid sonofabitch, and that makes you an accessory to kidnapping.
But he swallowed his anger, took a deep rasping breath, Dan said, "Because my Angie's in trouble, Jace. Even if he's just fucking around with her mind, he's going to hurt her. Mentally. Emotionally. Can't you see that?"
Jace said nothing. He looked away from Dan, like a kid who's been caught sneaking a peek at his father's girlie magazines.
Forcing himself to stay calm, Dan thought: There's a way to get to him. There is a way.
He hesitated, then said, "Nope."
"I guess it was too much to expect," Dan said.
"What was?"
"That you'd be able to track him down."
Jake's close-set eyes focused on Dan.
"I just thought you'd have the smarts to locate the bastard. Through the computer, maybe. Thought you'd have been bright enough to figure out how to find him."
"You didn't ask me how to find him," Jace said slowly, as though he knew he was stepping into a minefield. "You just asked me where he is."
"And you don't know."
"That's right. I don't know."
"And you don't know how to find him."
"I didn't say that."
"But you don't. Come on, Jace, admit it. You don't know how to find Muncrief. He's outsmarted you, just like he's outsmarted me."
Grudgingly, "I wouldn't put it that way."
Dan reached back with one hand and tried to massage the stiffness in his neck. "He's beaten us both. You're no better off than I am, are you?"
"I could find him," Jace snapped.
"Sure you could." Dan strained to make it sound as skeptical as he could.
"You don't think I could?"
Dan shrugged elaborately. "Hey, you're the boy genius, right? Only, I don't see any genius at work here."
Jace shot to his feet. "You just don't know much about anything, do you?" And he turned toward the door.
"Where're you going?" Dan called, scrambling from behind his desk.
"Computer center, dickhead. Wherever he is, his mind is connected to the friggin' computer."
CHAPTER 46
BAD COMMAND
The words blinked on the computer screen. Susan rubbed her eyes, hoping they would go away, but when she looked again, they still blinked at her, white letters against black background.
Then she looked at the command she had typed.
SHOW AKK BOLLS/MP
God, my hands are shaking so bad I can't even type straight. With deliberate care she retyped SHOW ALL BILLS/ MO.
She had already gone through Muncrief's databank of telephone numbers, accessing his computer through her modem. Nothing in there that gave her a clue as to where the man might have taken Angie; the phone numbers were almost entirely home phones for ParaReality employees. The man seemed to have no friends outside the company, no social life of his own.
Now she was examining his personal bills: rent, telephone, utilities, food, credit cards, car payment—it all looked maddeningly ordinary, except for a rather high bill from the local liquor store.
Of course, Susan reasoned inwardly, everything else must be in the company's files. He uses company money to pay for most of his expenses, I bet. It's a wonder he's paying for the Jaguar out of his own personal pocket.
She thought she heard Phil cry out. Looking up from the computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard, Susan held her breath and listened. She heard nothing but the hum of the machine. Still . . .
She got up and padded barefoot to Philip's room. The baby was sleeping soundly, none of the worse for his evening's travels. Maybe he enjoyed the excitement, Susan thought. Then she went back to her alcove office. She saw the kitchen phone on its wall rack. It had not rung since Dan had called. Angela's still out there with Muncrief, wherever the hell he's taken her. Maybe I should phone the police and ask them just when they're going to start considering this as a kidnapping.
But instead she sat in front of the computer again. There has got to be something in here that will tell me where he's taken Angie. There's got to be! Otherwise we have no way of knowing. He could be anywhere. He could be doing anything—
Susan clenched her fists and forced herself to take a deep breath. Don't start that! Don't draw pictures in your mind. That's not going to help. Dig into his records, find out where he spends his money. Find him. Find him. Find him and you'll find Angie.
But will I find her before he rapes and murders her?
"I'm getting really sleepy," Angela said.
The prince smiled gently. "Your bed is waiting for you, up at the top of the tower. It's the loveliest room in the castle."
He gestured vaguely. "Oh, there are servants, of course. They appear when you want them."
"I haven't seen any since we came back from the lake."
His smile turned just a trace sad. "Aren't you happy being alone with me? I thought it would be more romantic, just the two of us."
"Oh yes, I'm happy," Angela said quickly. Then she added, "I was just wondering."
"Come on, I'll take you to your bed chamber. Would you like to have ladies waiting upon you?" He held out his hand.
Angela slipped her arm in his and they started toward the grand staircase that spiraled up to the tower room.
But she hesitated at the first step.
"I really should go home."
The prince looked surprised. "But Angela, my dear, this is your home."
"No, I mean my real home. With my mother and father and my little brother."
He blinked in confusion. "Don't you want to stay with me?"
"I can come back to you."
"No, I'm afraid they wouldn't let you return here."
"But I can't stay—"
"They'll keep us apart, Angela. They'll take you away from me."
"You said you'd wait for me," she replied. "You said you'd wait forever, if you had to."
"I don't want to wait! I want you with me, now and forever."
"But I'll come back, I promise I will."
"Don't you love me?" he asked, heartbroken.
Her own heart almost broke to see him so sad. "Of course I love you. I'll always love you."
"Then don't leave me. Please. Not now. Not when we mean so much to each other."
"But my parents will be worried about me. I can't stay here all the time. I have to go home. But I'll come back to you."
"Angela! Angel baby, is that you?"
She whirled around and saw her father coming through the high arched doorway at the other end of the room.
"Daddy!" she ran to him.
"Angie," he said, taking her into his arms. "I've been looking for you."
"Daddy, I want you to meet—"
But when she turned back, the prince was gone.
"Where did he go?" Angela asked, bewildered.
Her father smiled at her. "He's upstairs waiting for you, Angie. He loves you a lot."
"I love him, too, Daddy."
"I know you do, Angie. That's why you must go to him—So you can love each other."
She stared at her father, almost overcome with happiness that he understood and did not object. And yet she felt afraid at the same time.
"I thought you'd want me to come home," she said.
"This is your home now, Angela. You and your prince will live here happily ever after."
"But you . . . and Mommy . . ."
"We'll come and visit you," her father said. "Your mother and I will come, you'll see. And your little brother, too."
"Will you? Will you really?"
"Of course we will. But you're a grown-up woman now, Angie. And you love the prince very much, don't you?"
"Yes," she said, trembling. A grown-up woman, she thought. The thought frightened her a little.
"Now you're going to love your prince the way a grown-up woman loves a grown-up man. The way your mother and I love each other. That's what being a grown-up is all about, Angie."
"Can't I come home with you?" she blurted.
Her father's-eyes flashed, and for just a moment, just a flicker of an instant, she thought she saw someone else's eyes in her father's face.
"Daddy, I-I'm afraid!"
He made a mechanical smile at her. "There's nothing to be afraid of. The prince loves you. He won't hurt you."
"Where's Mommy?"
"She's busy.
"Can't I see her?"
"Not now."
Her father grasped her by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. "The prince is waiting for you, Angie. Don't make him unhappy."
He turned her around so that she faced the staircase. The prince was standing halfway up the first flight, in a splendid uniform of deep blue and gold, reaching both hands out to her.
Angela turned toward her father. But he was gone. She was alone in the castle with the prince.
Kyle Muncrief blinked sweat from his eyes. Jace had been as good as his word. The simulation of Dan Santorini was just about perfect, except that Kyle couldn't remember the baby boy's name. Didn't matter. He had gotten through it. Too bad he couldn't run both the prince and the father at the same time, but the girl isn't smart enough to figure that out. I've got her now. I've got her.
Angela felt her throat go dry. She was alone in the castle with the prince. She did love him. And she knew that he loved her.
She started up the stairs toward him. She did not know whether the shaking of her legs was from love or fear. It did not matter, though. There was nothing else for her to do but to go to her prince.
He led her to the bedchamber. It was a magnificent room, richly tapestried, with a wide bed piled high with pillows beneath a silken canopy. And on the bed was a strange glittering web of jewels, like a necklace except that it was big enough to cover her whole body.
"This is for you, my love," said her prince, gesturing to the sensor network. "The finest jewels from Persia and India. All for your lovely skin."
"They're beautiful," Angela said, marveling at the gemstones.
"They must be worn next to your skin," said the prince. "Just as I am wearing mine."
And when she turned back to him she saw that his beautiful uniform was gone and he was standing there with nothing on his handsome muscular body except a network of sensors that glittered like jewels.
Susan stared wearily at the computer screen. She had got through the past six months of Muncrief's bills and found nothing useful. Why should there be? she asked herself. It was just wishful thinking. Wherever he's gone he hasn't left any paper trail for me to follow.
Leaning back in her typist's chair, she rubbed at her eyes. The house was perfectly still, not a sound except for the hum of the computer. Not even a car going past outside. Susan got to her feet, surprised at her back ached. Then she looked at the kitchen clock. She had been at the computer for nearly three hours straight.
And not a word from the police! Glancing at the wall phone, she thought again about calling Sergeant Wallace.
But he would call if he had learned anything, she told herself. And the memory of Muncrief's smashed-in garage door held her back, too. Sooner or later somebody's going to find it and question the security guard and come here looking for me.
Automatically, her mind numb and frantic at the same time, Susan took out a mug and spooned in some instant coffee. She half-filled the mug with boiling water from the special tap at the sink; the coffee frothed and steamed as she padded back to Philip's room to look in on the baby.
She tried to push away the images of what Muncrief might be doing to Angie. Instead she pictured what she would do to him. She wanted a knife, a big butcher's knife. She wanted to slash his face into bloody ribbons, cut off his balls so he would never bother another little girl, stab him in his fat gut and twist the blade until he screamed.
Shaking her head, Susan murmured, "I'll be happy if we can just get Angie back safe and unharmed. That's all I ask. Please, just bring her back to us okay." And she wondered who she was praying to; she had not been in church since last Easter, with her mother and the whole family back in Dayton.
The computer screen still spelled out the list of Muncrief's monthly bills: rent, telephone, utilities, food, credit cards, car payment. He made out checks for those bills every month. Too bad his computer file doesn't have the itemized bill from the phone company and the credit cards. Might be something in there. Something.
She sat at the curve-backed typist's chair again and put the steaming coffee mug down beside the computer. Could I get the phone company's records? It's worth a try. If I can access their computer.
Susan got up again and went to the two-drawer filing cabinet in their bedroom closet where Dan kept all the household bills. Thank God he's such a neatness freak, she thought as she pawed through the precisely-lettered manila folders. She found their latest phone bill, with the number she was looking for:
Problem with your billing? Call our customer service hotline, 666-5915.
Clutching the bill in her hand, Susan searched for their credit card bills. Each of them had a customer service line, also. Now if Muncrief has the same credit cards as we do I can access their records. Maybe.
She had to pass Angela's room on her way back to the kitchen and the sight of the empty bed clutched at her heart. I'm trying to find you, baby. I'm trying my hardest.
As Susan expected, United Telephone's customer service hotline was fully automated.
"If you wish to check your most recent billing," said their computer's synthesized voice, "press one. If you wish to—"
Susan pressed one. The voice started droning a new menu of options. ". . . If you have a computer modem and wish to have your bill displayed on your home computer screen, press four."
She pressed four, then followed the phone's instructions until she linked up through the modem and could read the further instructions off her display screen.
NAME? blinked at her.
KYLE MUNCRIEF, she typed.
TELEPHONE NUMBER?
Susan had expected that one and had it jotted down on the pad at her elbow. She typed it on her keyboard.
SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER?
Damn! That was their security check. She wouldn't get anything out of the phone company's files unless she could give them Muncrief's Social Security number.
Thinking furiously, Susan split the display screen and searched through the Muncrief files she had put into her own machine's memory. Somewhere, somewhere, Muncrief had listed important numbers and dates and—yes! There it was!
She returned to the phone company's flickering question and typed in 64G28-4017 .
