Father Flannery spread his hands in a gesture of hopelessness and cut his connection, too.
Alone, Matt felt his lips curve in an ironic smile.
The Callivant lawyers shouldn’t waste their time badgering us to find out who the hacker is, he thought. They should just wait to nail the last of us who is still standing!
13
The lobby wasn’t exactly bustling. But there were enough people walking past Matt to the visitors’ desk, getting oversized passes, and boarding the elevators for the floors above.
Matt, however, had nowhere to go. The hospital clerk had just turned down his request for a pass. After all my research, Matt thought, that’s one bit I never thought to check.
He’d spent every free moment in school today working the Bradford Academy computer system, trying to get more information about the fire that had burnt out Oswald Derbent’s home. Along the way, he’d picked up the fact that Derbent had been brought to the burn unit at George Washington University Hospital.
So, when classes ended, instead of going home, he headed in the opposite direction, south and east to Foggy Bottom. Here was the hospital, there was the visitor’s desk — but passes were only for family members.
You should have thought of that, Matt accused himself. Derbent’s situation is worse than critical.
He wanted to do something, not just head back with his tail between his legs. But a get-well balloon or flowers seemed like a pretty empty gesture.
The last thing Matt expected was a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin as he whipped around to see Father Flannery.
“I thought it was you,” the priest said.
“My school isn’t all that far away.” Matt shrugged, feeling awkward. “When I learned that Mr. Derbent was here — I thought maybe I could visit him. But they wouldn’t let me in.”
Flannery nodded. “My collar cut no ice with them, either. But they gave me some information.”
He sighed. “Derbent is in one of the hyperbaric oxygen modules — that’s the best hope, given the severity of his burns. If they can keep his condition stabilized long enough, they’ll try for synthetic skin grafts. But they aren’t optimistic.”
Matt nodded. Derbent wasn’t a big man, and he was no kid.
“There’s a small chapel.” Flannery nodded off to one side. “I was in there praying for him.” The priest hesitated, then went on. “Before that, I was visiting with Mrs. Knox.”
“Those — both — were kind things to do,” Matt said.
“As we said before, they come with the job.” Flannery looked embarrassed. “The poor woman is a wreck. She has no idea whether her husband was keeping up his insurance, and there’s still no money coming in. There are children to be fed, and a roof to be kept over their heads—” The priest shook his head. “I gave her some advice, suggested some places she could go. She was almost pathetically grateful. She talked a great deal — I suppose she was glad to have a friendly car.”
He grimaced. “But it seems I haven’t quite shaken off the influence of Spike Spanner. I asked some questions, too.”
Matt sighed. “And did you dig up any clues?”
“I suppose you’d call it something more like background information. It seems Hard-Knocks Harry was a bit of a dreamer,” Father Flannery said. “He talked big, but never accomplished anything.”
“He wound up with that big rig.”
“Financed with a legacy from his uncle,” Flannery said. “When he wasn’t on the road, he was synched into his computer. After his juvenile brush with the law, Knox apparently fancied himself as quite the outlaw. He liked sims about hacking. He and the missus apparently had some arguments about it. She didn’t want him leading the children astray.”
“So he decided to be a great detective instead?” Matt asked.
The priest nodded. “But that wasn’t the kind of reform Mrs. Knox had in mind. She’s a bit of a technophobe. Computers give her the creeps. She complained about her husband lying around, connected to what she called a ‘soulless machine.’”
“Maybe she had a point,” Matt suggested.
“If she went too far in one direction, Knox went too far in the other. He was determined to solve the fictional Van Alst case. In fact, he hinted that it might lead to real-life benefits.”
Matt paused for a second. “The hacking.”
“The widow Knox doesn’t know about that,” Flannery said, “and I didn’t tell her. But it sounds like he may have been behind it.”
“Well, we’ll certainly never find out.” Matt shrugged.
Now it was the priest’s turn to pause.
“We might,” said Father Flannery. “The arguments over Hard-Knocks Harry’s virtual life ended with his wife throwing him out of the house.” He glanced at Matt. “She also disconnected his computer.”
Matt stared. “What?”
“She had some muddled fears that he’d fool with financial records, cut her out of bank accounts or something. That way, she figured she’d have an untouched version of their accounts.” Flannery smiled at the expression on Matt’s face. “I told you, she’s not the most sophisticated person when it comes to computers.”
“Sophisticated?” Matt echoed. “You’d have to work pretty hard to be that ignorant. Didn’t she ever learn in school—”
“It was a different era,” Flannery said. “A good school was one that had one computer per classroom.”
Matt silently shook his head.
“Anyway,” the priest went on, “Mrs. Knox asked me where she could get help sorting out what’s in her former husband’s computer. Family accounts, records—”
And maybe a few terabits of contraband information about a certain incident in Haddington, Matt silently finished. “Did you look?” he asked.
The priest shook his head, looking a little more uncomfortable. “I honestly told her that I’m not all that technically inclined.” He hesitated, finally going on. “Then, I may have bent the truth a little. I reminded the widow of my first visit, with you, building you up as quite the computer wiz. Mrs. Knox is very eager to meet you again — for your professional opinion. Can you handle that?”
Matt smiled. “If I can’t, I’ll be sure to bring along someone who can.”
As soon as Matt got home, he put out a call to his Net Force Explorers crew, inviting them in for a virtual meeting that evening. After dinner he whipped through his homework, then leaned back on his computer-link couch and synched in.
Matt entered his virtual work space, a black marble “desktop” floating unsupported in the midst of a starry sky.
One nice thing about veeyar, he thought, suddenly remembering Kerry Jones’s dorm room. You don’t have to tidy it up when you have company.
Leif Anderson popped into existence on the other side of the desktop. “This is a nice setup,” he said, folding his legs so that he was floating in a modified lotus position. He glanced down toward a distant galaxy. “Must be hard on people with acrophobia, though.”
“I have a special sim for those visitors — it’s a precise re-creation of the inside of my closet.” Before Matt could say anything else, Megan was beside him. She ignored the stars, checking out the icons arranged on the desktop to spot any new programs she might want to borrow.
Megan was telling him he ought to upgrade his virtmail system when David Gray appeared.
“You’re late!” She delighted in announcing to the usually punctual David. “That burn leg of yours is slowing you up even in veeyar!”
“It’s not the burn leg, but the cane.” David made an annoyed noise. “Especially when you have two younger brothers playing with it. I was stranded at the dinner table until my mother restored order.”