Nancy hesitated a moment. She had to be careful what she asked. If Victor was the grade-changer, she didn’t want him to suspect she was on his trail.
“I was wondering,” she said lightly, “if someone sent you a message, would there be any way of finding out what terminal it came from?”
“You could,” Ms. MacCauley replied with a nod. “If you refuse the message, the computer will tell you that it’s returning the message to its place of origin. It will say: ‘Returning refused message to terminal twelve,’ or whatever terminal it is.”
“And how could you find out where terminal twelve is located?” asked Nancy.
“You couldn’t,” Ms. MacCauley replied. “You’d have to have access to a set of computer files that the regular student user couldn’t get to.”
She’d have to ask Walter to look at the file, thought Nancy. “Why can’t students have that information?” she asked Ms. MacCauley. “Is it for security reasons?”
“Not really. We simply didn’t want to overload the active systems with files students don’t need. By storing this information in a separate reference directory, we freed up some space for active use. No one but authorized personnel can get into that file.”
“Authorized personnel and me,” Victor piped up.
Ms. MacCauley shot him an exasperated look. “Victor,” she said, covering her ears, “I’m not hearing this. Don’t tell me these things.”
Disregarding the playful warning, Victor leaned in closer to Nancy—closer than he had to. “Watch this,” he said as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “Ta da!” he crowed finally.
There it was! A complete listing of all the terminals in the school next to their code reference numbers. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe she could just get a copy of the list now without bothering the headmaster. But she couldn’t ask for it without making Victor suspicious.
“Oh, no!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly, glancing at her watch. “A student’s due to arrive any minute, and I’m not prepared yet!”
Nancy jumped up from her seat and pretended to twist her ankle. She pitched forward, bringing her hand down on the keyboard—making sure to hit only one button: Print Screen.
Noisily, the printer sprang into action. “Oh, my gosh!” she cried, feigning surprise.
“Are you okay?” asked Victor.
“It’s just my ankle,” she moaned. “I hope it doesn’t swell up.”
“I’m going to get a cold, wet towel,” Ms. MacCauley volunteered. “That might keep it from swelling.”
“Let’s take a look at that,” said Victor as Ms. MacCauley left the room. He knelt down in front of her and propped her foot up on his leg. Slipping off her loafer, he gently rotated the ankle. “Does that hurt?” he asked, his amber eyes meeting hers.
They were startled by a strangled cry from the doorway. Nancy looked over and saw Kim standing there, her face crimson with anger.
“You’ll be sorry,” she cried. “You two will wish you were never born when I’m through with you!”
Chapter Six
Kim turned and fled down the hall.
“I’d better try to talk to her,” Victor said, dashing out of the room.
Nancy hit the Advance button on the printer, and the paper moved up enough so that she could tear off the three sheets of the printout and slip them into her bag.
“What was that about?” a voice spoke up behind her.
Nancy whirled around to find Ms. MacCauley standing in the doorway. For a moment she thought the woman had been talking about the printout. Then Nancy realized she was watching Kim and Victor.
“Just some kind of misunderstanding,” said Nancy.
Ms. MacCauley turned her attention back to Nancy. “How’s your ankle?” she asked, offering her a few cool, wet paper towels.
“Huh—oh, it’ll be okay.” Nancy took the towel and pressed it to her ankle. “Do you know what else? I feel so stupid. My student isn’t even due to arrive for another half-hour. I was mistaken. I’m not used to my schedule yet.”
“Terrific,” said Ms. MacCauley, settling herself at the terminal. “We can continue while Victor sorts out his love life.” With nimble fingers, she closed out the directory of computer terminals. She chuckled and shook her head as she worked. “That Victor! He’d better watch his step or he’ll land in big trouble someday. Once you know how to break into a system it’s very tempting to make mischief. Believe me, I know.”
There was something in the way she said “I know” that jolted Nancy’s memory. Nancy gave Ms. MacCauley a probing look. She was obviously in her early twenties, only a few years older than Nancy. Nancy tried to remember what her father had told her about the girl who had gotten in trouble for using her computer to alter her parents’ telephone bills. Ms. MacCauley seemed to be about the right age. She had her own computer company in River Heights, too. And the remark she’d just made indicated that she had gotten into computer-related trouble. Nancy would be willing to bet that Ms. MacCauley was the girl her father had defended!
Trying to remain calm, Nancy said, “I suppose a person could tamper with all sorts of things, like bank records, government files—even telephone bills.”
Ms. MacCauley looked so sharply at Nancy that Nancy knew her hunch was right.
“Well, uh, let me show you how the E-mail works,” Ms. MacCauley said, her attention on the computer once again. “See these menus on the screen?” Nancy nodded, and Ms. MacCauley went on, “You see the word MAIL? That allows you to send and receive electronic mail. Do you have a mailbox yet?”
“Phyllis Hathaway gave me a password,” Nancy replied. “But I don’t know if I have an E-mail box.”
“That’s easily fixed,” said Ms. MacCauley. She tapped in some commands. “There. From now on, whenever you log onto the system, it will tell you if there’s any E-mail in your box. I’ve just sent you today’s student mailings. Try it. Log off, then log back on.”
Obediently, Nancy exited from the system, then reentered and typed in her password. When she hit Return, a blinking message flashed on the screen: You have three E-mail messages. Do you want to read them now? Y/N.
Nancy pressed Y. A school calendar appeared on the screen, followed by a list of weekly club meetings and an announcement of tryouts for the next Drama Society play.
Ms. MacCauley then showed Nancy how to send a message and how to refuse one.
Nancy kept her eyes on Ms. MacCauley’s face as she said, “This system is really impressive. When I met Phyllis yesterday, I got the impression that she had designed it. But didn’t Victor just say that you had?”
Ms. MacCauley stiffened. “Ms. Hathaway and I have both worked on it,” she said in a tight voice. “She has a solid background in computers and a thorough understanding of the school’s needs.”
Why was she suddenly so cool? Nancy wondered. Had Nancy hit on something when she mentioned Ms. Hathaway?
“Well, however it happened,” Nancy said lightly, “the computer system seems to be a big plus at Brewster. You should be proud of yourselves.”
“We are,” Ms. MacCauley replied. “Too bad the trustees didn’t feel that way when they chose the new head for the school. Phyllis would have been the perfect choice.” Abruptly, she got to her feet, saying, “I have to get back to my office.”
“I’ll walk you outside,” Nancy volunteered. She stretched a little as she got to her feet. “I could use some exercise.” Besides, there was more she wanted to learn from Ms. MacCauley.
“I have one more question,” said Nancy, grabbing her raincoat. “Could I read a message and still find out where it was sent from?”
“This is one of the few systems on which you can,” Ms. MacCauley said proudly as they went downstairs to exit. “If you save the message after reading it and then refuse it, you’ll see the terminal code come up as it’s returned to its origin.”