No, she hadn't quit. Teresa remembered that she and Cathy had married at about the same time, but Cathy was posted to somewhere in the Midwest soon afterwards. What had happened to her? She'd died in an accident, hadn't she? Or was it on an assignment? Who married her? Somewhere far away, a mental glimpse: Cathy and the guy she married, another agent, a practical joke at the wedding, something to do with a pack of cards and a trick, a brilliant piece of card manipulation that made everyone roar with laughter; a guy with large hands and a heavy body. Cal! Calvin Devore; Andy's friend Cal, the big guy with the large hands and the dainty movements that always amused and impressed her. Oh Jesus, Cal! His wife had been shot, trying to arrest a suspect in Dubuque, Iowa, hit in the head by a bullet, lay in a coma for a week, then died. Kathy Devore.
Continue with 658 hyperlink(s) connecting 'Teresa Ann Simons' to 'Gerry/Gerald Dean Grove'? Yes/No.
Teresa clicked on No, irritated with the program for seeming irritated with her.
Was she involved in Kathy's death? Was Grove? What was the link? She tried to think, clear her thoughts of all the sidetracks, all the extra information.
If she let this go on, if she went back again, there would be even more hyperlinks, hundreds more connections. How many more could there be? The sidetracks were endless. The crossover with Grove was growing as if alive: it was spreading through virtuality, dragging in more connections between them, perhaps creating them.
lt was that endlessness again, the lack of an edge or a boundary, only extremes.
She thought, It's enough. 1 don't want to know about Kathy Devore. Not now. It's too late for that. 1 have to concentrate on one thing. What 1 want, what 1 need. Hyperreality has broken down, and 1 can go to the extremes.
Continue with 658 hyperlink(s) connecting 'Teresa Ann Simons' to 'Gerry/Gerald Dean Grove'? Yes/No.
Teresa clicked on Yes. The seemingly endless listing resumed.
William Cook (one hundred and eleven main items, but with hundreds of others hyperlinked elsewhere), Charles Whitman (two hundred and twentyseven main items, but with thousands of others ad . acent), James and Michaela Surtees (two), Jason Hartland (thirtythree items), Sam Wilkins McLeod (fifteen), Deke Cannigan (who? anyway thirty), Charles Dayton Hunter (eightyone items), Joseph L. McLaughlin (twentyfour), Jose Porteiro (eighteen) ...
After the six hundred and thirtyfourth numbered scenario, the program paused, but Teresa could sense it working, searching the database, assembling, sorting. Then the screen shifted one more time, and the last twentyfour scenarios were listed.
They were all for Andy/Andrew Wellman Simons.
The video frame of the first scenario of the twentyfour showed Andy's bulky figure standing alert beside a car. He was holding a gun in both hands, looking back over one shoulder into the distance. He had on his FBI bulletproof vest, the Bureau's famous initials clearly inscribed.
The hierarchical information for this item was:
Participatory/ Operativeenabled/Noninteractive
State
or
County
PD/State
PD/Texas/Kingwood
City/Multiple
Murder/Spree/Guns/john Luther Aronwitz/Federal Agent Andrew Wellman Simons.
Andy was what she wanted, all she wanted.
Tears were welling in her eyes as Teresa moved the pointer to the ExEx box. She clicked on it, and a few seconds later the equipment delivered her phial of nanochips.
Holding in her hand the life and death of her husband, Teresa walked through to the simulator area of the building, and found a technician to set the scenario in motion.
CHAPTER 37
Federal Agent Andy Simons parked his car outside police lines, pulled on his bulletproof vest with the FBI initials displayed prominently at front and back, jerked his cap down over his forehead and went to find Captain jack Tremmins, officer in charge. According to protocol, Andy offered any assistance that might be required.
Teresa had forgotten how hot a Texas summer afternoon could be: a sticky, spreading heat, which made everything seem to burn around you, whether in shade or not. The concrete of the parking lot scorched through the soles of Andy's shoes, and the almost vertical sunlight battered down on the crown of his head through the thin plastic of his cap. There was a smell of ragweed, stinging his sinuses.
Andy had always suffered pollen allergies.
Teresa stared through Andy's eyes around the immense parking lot, trying to orient herself She had been in Britain long enough to forget the scale on which Texan shopping malls were built. Most of Bulverton's Old Town would fit into this lot and she knew there would be further acres of parking spaces on the other sides of the massive mall. The great dome of the Texan sky stretched overhead, its vastness emphasized by the flat horizons in all directions.
Only buildings stood up against the sky to lend a sense of scale.
Texas was a place of extremes, a place without limits.
Away beyond police lines the normal business of the North Cross shopping mall continued: the gunman had been cornered in the service bay in the rear of the building, and after hurried consultations with the mall administrator, the police had allowed the stores inside the building to resume trading normally. The only restraint on movement was in this area, around the loading and unloading bays. Although the gunman had already killed several people, he was thought to present no further danger to the public.
Andy found Captain Tremmins, who quickly and efficiently briefed him on all this. He took him over to meet Lieutenant Frank Hanson, in charge of the SWAT team. Andy said to Hanson he would like to go through and talk with the mall administration, but if he was required to render any assistance ...
Andy had to walk round the long way, past the service bays, to get inside the huge building.
As he stepped under the police tape, sweating in the terrible heat, Teresa said, 'Andy?'
There was no response.
'Andy, can you hear me? It's me, Tess.'
He kept striding on, looking from side to side watchfully. He rounded a corner and came to a huge entrance vestibule built of steel and glass: overhead there was a sign intended to be read from a mile away. lt said: NORTH CROSS CENTER West Entrance. A group of armed police let him through, and at once he was in the airconditioned chin inside.
'Andy? Can you give me a sign you know I'm here?'
He walked on without responding. There was a doughnut counter, a book store, a furniture shop, a leathergoods store; they came into a broad atrium with mature trees, a series of rolling waterfalls, a fountain playing under coloured lights ...
Teresa remembered how she had learned to shift position when she was in Grove's mind: while she stayed at the back of his mind she could not communicate with him, but she influenced his decisions and movements; when she moved forward she felt as if he had taken control of himself again but she was exposed to all his thoughts and instincts. She tried to shift position in Andy's mind, but either the scenario was written differently or Andy was of sterner mentality. She could make no impact on his thoughts or movements.