Chapter 60

Two‑tone headed through the mirrored corridor that led from the outside patio to the dance floor. As he turned to check his safety pin in the reflection, he sensed a figure looming up behind him. He spun, but it was too late. A pair of rocklike arms pinned his body face‑first against the glass.

The punk tried to twist around. “Eduardo? Hey, man, is that you?” Two‑Tone felt a hand brush over his wallet before the figure leaned firmly into his back. “Eddie!” the punk cried. “Quit fooling around! Some guy was lookin' for Megan.”

The figure held him firmly.

“Hey, Eddie, man, cut it out!” But when Two‑Tone looked up into the mirror, he saw the figure pinning him was not his friend at all.

The face was pockmarked and scarred. Two lifeless eyes stared out like coal from behind wire‑rim glasses. The man leaned forward, placing his mouth against Two‑Tone’s ear. A strange, voice choked, “Adonde fue? Where’d he go?” The words sounded somehow misshapen.

The punk froze, paralyzed with fear.

“Adonde fue?” the voice repeated. “El Americano.”

“The . . . the airport. Aeropuerto,” Two‑Tone stammered.

“Aeropuerto?” the man repeated, his dark eyes watching Two‑Tone’s lips in the mirror.

The punk nodded.

“Tenia el anillo? Did he have the ring?”

Terrified, Two‑Tone shook his head. “No.”

“Viste el anillo? Did you see the ring?”

Two‑Tone paused. What was the right answer?

“Viste el anillo?” the muffled voice demanded.

Two‑Tone nodded affirmatively, hoping honesty would pay. It did not. Seconds later he slid to the floor, his neck broken.

Chapter 61

Jabba lay on his back lodged halfway inside a dismantled mainframe computer. There was a penlight in his mouth, a soldering iron in his hand, and a large schematic blueprint propped on his belly. He had just finished attaching a new set of attenuators to a faulty motherboard when his cellular phone sprang to life.

“Shit,” he swore, groping for the receiver through a pile of cables. “Jabba here.”

“Jabba, it’s Midge.”

He brightened. “Twice in one night? People are gonna start talking.”

“Crypto’s got problems.” Her voice was tense.

Jabba frowned. “We been through this already. Remember?”

“It’s a power problem.”

“I’m not an electrician. Call Engineering.”

“The dome’s dark.”

“You’re seeing things. Go home.” He turned back to his schematic.

“Pitch black!” she yelled.

Jabba sighed and set down his penlight. “Midge, first of all, we’ve got aux power in there. It would never be pitch black. Second, Strathmore’s got a slightly better view of Crypto than I do right now. Why don’t you call him?”

“Because this has to do with him. He’s hiding something.”

Jabba rolled his eyes. “Midge sweetie, I’m up to my armpits in serial cable here. If you need a date, I’ll cut loose. Otherwise, call Engineering.”

“Jabba, this is serious. I can feel it.”

She can feel it? It was official, Jabba thought, Midge was in one of her moods. “If Strathmore’s not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Crypto’s pitch black, dammit!”

“So maybe Strathmore’s stargazing.”

“Jabba! I’m not kidding around here!”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, propping himself up on an elbow. “Maybe a generator shorted out. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll stop by Crypto and—”

“What about aux power!” Midge demanded. “If a generator blew, why is there no aux power?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Strathmore’s got TRANSLTR running and aux power is tapped out.”

“So why doesn’t he abort? Maybe it’s a virus. You said something earlier about a virus.”

“Damn it, Midge!” Jabba exploded. “I told you, there’s no virus in Crypto! Stop being so damned paranoid!”

There was a long silence on the line.

“Aw, shit, Midge,” Jabba apologized. “Let me explain.” His voice was tight. “First of all, we’ve got Gauntlet‑no virus could possibly get through. Second, if there’s a power failure, it’s hardware‑related‑viruses don’t kill power, they attack software and data. Whatever’s going on in Crypto, it’s not a virus.”

Silence.

“Midge? You there?”

Midge’s response was icy. “Jabba, I have a job to do. I don’t expect to be yelled at for doing it. When I call to ask why a multi billion‑dollar facility is in the dark, I expect a professional response.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“A simple yes or no will suffice. Is it possible the problem in Crypto is virus‑related?”

“Midge . . . I told you—”

“Yes or no. Could TRANSLTR have a virus?”

Jabba sighed. “No, Midge. It’s totally impossible.”

“Thank you.”

He forced a chuckle and tried to lighten the mood. “Unless you think Strathmore wrote one himself and bypassed my filters.”

There was a stunned silence. When Midge spoke, her voice had an eerie edge. “Strathmore can bypass Gauntlet?”

Jabba sighed. “It was a joke, Midge.” But he knew it was too late.