He paused the scenario for a second and made an adjustment.
There, he thought. That’s better.
The account numbers were now in Arabic numerals. Much easier to follow. He located the pigeonhole with his account number. Within lay a single sheet of parchment that contained a summary of all the account activity for the last few months.
He picked it up and scanned it. There was the name of the account holder: Otis E. Levator.
He smiled at the name and turned his attention back to the details. It sure looked like Mr. Levator had been getting some serious cash from CyberNation over the last few months.
Jay grabbed the parchment and headed for the exit of the chapel. Time to change scenarios and track down old Otis. He left and headed out beyond the castle wall. Once he was back in the forest, he modified the virtual world around him.
One of the joys of being a net demigod was the ability to wave one’s hand and change reality. Too bad it only worked in VR.
This new environment was also a forest, but one far different from the majestic old oaks of Sherwood. Jay had also traded in his Robin Hood outfit for a frayed flannel shirt, a pair of raggedy denim overalls, and worn combat boots. A pack of six bloodhounds bayed beside him, straining at the leashes he held in his hand.
Jay took a handkerchief from his pocket. It looked a lot like the parchment from the previous scenario. He waved it under the dogs’ noses, giving them the scent.
The hounds sniffed the handkerchief, whuffled, and got more excited.
“Let’s git ’im, dawgs,” Jay hollered, and set them free of their leashes.
The pack took off, following the scent, with Jay chasing after the baying hounds.
This scenario was an old favorite of his, running through the Alabama backwoods like some old moonshiner chasing white lightning thieves from his still. He smiled at the image.
After a few minutes, the dogs’ barking changed in pitch.
He moved faster, pushing through saw-grass plants and low bushes. Ahead he could see the dogs surrounding a small shack.
He called up the ID program for the shack and frowned. Someone had been clever. This little shack wasn’t Otis E. Levator’s home after all. It was a mail delivery box at a Postal Plus — one of the tiny commercial post offices at mini-malls everywhere. They were all sterile, with a built-in irradiator that was guaranteed to keep your letters germ-free.
Another cutout.
“Thanks a lot, Otis.” To the bloodhounds, he said, “Okay, pups, you can shut up now.”
The dogs obeyed.
So what he had was some clown’s idea of a clever pseudonym. Elevator. Probably something to do with moving up in the world. But that was all that he had.
Now what?
Jay left the dogs behind and went into the shack. He did a VR shift—
Jay didn’t bother loading one of his custom scenarios. Not much point in it. He was pretty sure there was nothing to be found here. Instead, he just ran a standard VR website visual of the place, and tapped into the security on the shipping store’s computer.
The address left by the mysterious Elevator was also a post office box, only this one was U.S. Mail.
Well, that was just great. All that work seeing the forest for the trees, all that time hacking a bank to get this—
He looked up and noticed something. Hello?
A security cam hung down from the ceiling. The operator of the mail place must have had some problems with people vandalizing mailboxes late at night. That was pretty typical of a place like this. Whatever the reason, he had installed a video surveillance device.
Jay recognized it as a pretty standard device. The cam took a mid-ranged resolution video of the lobby, capturing images of everyone who came in. Usually the files were stored for a week or so before being either destroyed or archived.
Now if only the data was kept on this hard drive…
Jay went past the boxes and into the shop proper. The clerk was busy with some customers. Jay saw the door behind the vidcam and eased over toward it. When the man behind the counter went into the back with a package, Jay tried the door’s handle. It opened, and he quickly slipped into the little room where the monitor and hard drive for the cam were. He closed the door behind him and crossed over to the computer.
It only took a couple of commands to start the playback. In the background of the video Jay could see a few parking spaces to the right of the wall of boxes. He narrowed the picture and located the box he wanted. There it was. He then sped through the data, hoping the owner of box 1147 had been in sometime within the past week.
Movement caught his eye and he slowed the recording.
A tall, dark-haired young man in a very nice business suit — Armani, it looked like — opened the mailbox, pulled out a parcel, and left.
Jay widened the frame. The man headed to a vintage Porsche Boxter parked just in front of the place.
Jay froze the image, narrowed the focus again, and got the license plate of the vehicle. He could just barely make it out: LAWMAN9.
Jay frowned. A cop? That didn’t make sense.
He made a quick copy of the video, sent it to his own e-mail address, and then bailed from the scenario—
In his home office, Jay checked the time. Almost midnight. Saji would be asleep; she was an early riser.
He did a quick check with the DMV databank and found a name for the owner of LAWMAN9: Theodore A. Clements.
Gotcha!
Jay pulled down a few more files, a basic search, and scanned them quickly.
Not a cop. A lawyer. Clements worked for the Supreme Court. He was a clerk.
Well, well, well. Why would CyberNation be sending money to a Supreme Court justice’s clerk? Not for anything legal, he’d bet.
Just wait till Alex heard about this one.
Commander Alex Michaels was not happy. It wasn’t even eight in the morning yet, and he needed another cup of coffee. Instead, he was due at a briefing session for a congressional committee.
The worst part was that there was nothing he could tell the Subcommittee on Internet Security that they couldn’t have gotten from a com or e-mail, nothing that an assistant couldn’t have delivered just as well. But of course, that wasn’t how things worked in this town. When a committee chairman wanted to be briefed, he didn’t want to hear it from some flunky, and he certainly didn’t want to actually sit down and read something. No, he wanted it from the lips of the man in charge.
It was just another part of the political gamesmanship that went on every day of life here. Who had to go where, and say what, was part of how clout was defined in the corridors of power. Alex knew all this. He also knew that the head of a small agency like Net Force couldn’t say no to six congressmen, no matter how stupid those congressmen were being.
He was supposed to meet Tommy Bender here first. Nobody from Net Force, or even the mainline FBI, went before committees without a lawyer at his elbow.
He checked his watch and looked around again before finally spotting Tommy. The lawyer was talking to a tall blonde in a gray power suit, low heels, and red silk scarf. The skirt was cut just above her knees. She was gorgeous, no question about it, and Michaels thought she looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
Tommy caught his eye and motioned Alex to join him. “Hey, Commander,” he said when Alex came over.