Death Dream (43 page)

"Why do you need to see what Jace was doing back at Wright-Patterson?" she asked.

Glancing at his daughter, who was trying hard to finish her sandwich without getting any of it on her blouse or jeans, Dan said, "Jace made a VR game for Dorothy."

"For Dorothy? How do you know that?"

"For her to use at home. When Ralph's away. Hell, maybe they used it together too."

"How do you know?" Susan repeated.

He avoided her eyes. "Doc told me. And I talked with Jace about it this morning."

"A VR game? For the bedroom?"

Dan nodded solemnly.

"That's kinky."

"I'm finished!" Angela announced, brushing crumbs of her jeans.

Dan climbed slowly to his feet and put on a smile. "Okay, honey, I'll take you to the lab. Just one game, now. We agreed on that, right?"

Susan watched them walking away from her, Angela's hand in her father's. Neither one of them so much as glanced back at her. Philip, sitting up in his car chair, waved both hands at them but they did not see him.

"Which game do you want to play?" she heard Dan ask their daughter.

" Cinderella,' " said Angela. "Or maybe 'Alice in Wonderland'! No, not that one. 'Green Mansions'! Mary Mackie told me about that one, it's all about this deep, deep forest and there are birds that talk to you and you wear a dress made of spiderwebs and . . ."

They reached the door, went through, and let it swing shut behind them. Leaving Susan sitting there on the floor with the baby, wondering what a VR sex simulation would be like.

Then she thought,
if Dan's going to set up Angie in a VR game, at least I can watch which programs are put into use. Maybe I can get a clue to Vickie's damned code words that way.
She scrambled to her feet, startling little Philip so badly that he broke into a bawling cry.

The forest-green Jaguar convertible purred to a stop in the roofed parking slot marked K. MUNCRIEF. PRES. Muncrief got out and squinted into the bright sky as he patted his windblown hair into place. He did not expect to meet anyone at the office on this Thanksgiving Day, so he had dressed casually in a short-sleeved shirt and dark shorts. Still, he looked sharp and stylish.
Like the picture of Dorian Gray
, he thought.
Good-looking outside, but inside a real mess.

As he walked the ten paces to ParaReality's glass doors he remembered that Vickie had suggested he roof over all the parking spaces. The employees were grumbling that they had to leave their cars baking in the sun all day. But he didn't have the money to spend on that. Later, he told himself, after the cash starts rolling in. If it ever starts. There was only one other car in the front lot, he saw: Smith's rented BMW. He must be in there keeping an eye on Jace. Good. Let the two of 'em get in each other's hair.

As he strode through the lobby toward his office, Muncrief laughed to himself at that image: Jace with his long tangled mane and Smith's military-type buzz cut.

He waved to Joe Rucker as the guard came lurching and grinning toward him like an eager St Bernard puppy. "How do, Mr. Muncrief, sir! Happy Thanksgiving to ye!"

"Same to you, Joe," Muncrief called as he strode through the lobby.

For the past week Muncrief had been feeling more and more helpless. Out of control of what was happening round him. Vulnerable. Dan Santorini running off to Ohio; the most reliable man in the lab, just dashing off without a word to anybody. How the hell can we get anything done around here with employees who do things like that? I should have fired him. Teach 'em all a lesson.

And Jace just waltzing in and taking over the Washington job. Who's in charge here? I didn't want that bastard Smith and whatever his damned job is, but here he is, in my building on Thanksgiving day, no less, working with Jace. That's Vickie's doing; she got me into this Washington business.

He sat heavily in his high-backed swivel chair and flicked on his desktop computer. Nobody in the office, nobody calling on the phones. All the sane people in the country are out enjoying the holiday. Good time to get some work done without interruptions. A chance to study the cash flow and the work schedules and see just where in hell we stand. Quiet enough to think and make plans. Got to get Cyber World running by April first. Got to get Smith off my case and back to Washington.

Out of ingrained routine and a touch of curiosity he inspected the security log to see who else was working this Thanksgiving afternoon. The screen showed a list of names and their personnel numbers.

Jace, of course. He just about lives in his lab, Muncrief mumbled to himself. I ought to charge him rent the way he uses the showers and all. And Smith. Joe Rucker; dumb hick has no place else to go, I guess. Why on earth did I ever let Jace talk me into hiring a one-armed, one-legged security guard?

He saw that Dan Santorini was in the lab—well, at least he's trying to make up a little for the time he's wasted in Ohio. Muncrief's brows rose slightly when the screen showed three other names under Dan's. He's brought his whole family in here with him! The daughter too. Angie.

He leaned back in the chair, as if afraid to touch the computer keyboard.

I wonder—would he let her play one of the games? Good way to babysit her.

Muncrief felt the familiar hollow sensation in the pit of his stomach. As if he were going to be sick. Like a teenager trying to work up the courage to touch his date's breast.

With a trembling finger he pecked at the keyboard. yes! She's in there playing "Green Mansions." Then he checked the other machines in use: Jace in his own lab; Dan in his office; somebody in the computer center. He remembered that Susan Santorini had taken on some computer searches for her husband and Jace. Must be her, Muncrief thought.

There's nobody else in the building except Rucker.

And little Angie is in the game booth. Don't do it, he warned himself. Her parents are here in the building with her. Her mother's using one of the minis in the computer center, for God's sake. If her father finds out . . .

He sat there for almost a quarter of an hour, struggling against his common sense. He won.

CHAPTER 32

It was the most beautiful world she had ever been in.

Angela walked almost on tip-toe along the soft mossy trail that wound through the lovely green forest, her arms held out in anticipation, her gauzy dress of spiderwebs soft and cool against her skin. The trees were tremendous, soaring up and up and up until their branches mingled with one another in a leafy canopy that let in just enough sunlight to make everything warm and bright down here on the ground.

Birds called back and forth. Jeweled insects chirruped.

The breeze was soft, caressing.

A jaguar stepped onto the trail in front of her, its tawny coat adorned with handsome black designs. It stretched its front legs and bowed its head.

"Hello, Angela," said the jaguar. Not surprised in the slightest at the talking jungle cat, Angela returned, "Hello. What's your name?"

"What name would you like to give me?"

She thought a moment. "Are you a boy cat or a girl cat?"

"That's up to you, my dear."

"You look like a boy cat to me," said Angela. "I'll name you Georgie."

"Georgie the Jaguar," said the cat.

"Can I pet you?"

"May I pet you?" Georgie corrected. "And yes, of course. I like to be petted by pretty young ladies."

Angela came up beside the jaguar and stroked his back, feeling the warm silkiness of his fur. The jaguar purred for her and rubbed against her legs, gently, though, so she wouldn't be knocked over. She felt the strength in the cat's smoothly rippling muscles.

"Where are you heading?" Georgie asked.

"I'm exploring. This forest is really very beautiful, isn't it?"

"You mean you haven't seen your house yet?"

"My house? No! Where is it?"

"Right down this trail and across the stream. It's a tree house, you know, built up high where the birds make their nests."

Angela clapped her hands with joy. "Let's go see it!"

"Of course. Just follow me."

The jaguar padded off along the trail and Angela followed him. Birds of every color flitted through the trees, singing so beautifully that Angie almost wanted to cry. Beetles glittered like precious stones as she hurried along the path, and she saw squirrels and deer and even an auburn-coated fox by the time she reached the bank of the swift-flowing stream.

"How deep is the water?" Angela asked.

"Not very," said Georgie. "Look, there's a set of stones arranged for us to cross on. You know, I don't like to get wet very much."

"I'm learning to swim."

"You mustn't swim in this stream," Georgie said. "There are crocodiles and alligators and piranhas and all sorts of evil things in the water."

"Really?"

"Every world has its dangers, Angela dear, and in this world the dangers are in the streams and rivers. As long as you are on dry land you are perfectly safe."

"How strange," said Angela.

The stones were broad and flat topped, although they looked wet and slippery. Georgie padded across easily. Angela was just starting to put her bare foot on the first stone when she saw an alligator on the opposite bank, sunning itself next to a huge fallen log. It was staring at her, smiling broadly with a mouth full of crooked sharp teeth.

"Come on," Georgie called from the far bank. "Nothing can hurt you—unless you fall into the water."

Angela stepped onto the first stone. It felt cold, slimy. The alligator's smile widened.

"You can do it, Angela," said Georgie. "Come on."

She hopped from one stone to the next. They were close enough together so that she could skip across them easily.

"That's the way!" Georgie encouraged her.

Halfway across, though, Angela glanced down into the dark, swiftly swirling water. It looked cold and menacing. There were strange shapes flickering in the darkness down there, gathering around the stones as if waiting for her to lose her balance and fall in. She saw evil little eyes glinting at her, and hard sharp teeth.

Angela's foot slipped on the wet slithery rock and she teetered, arms windmilling.

"Look out!" cried Georgie.

Then she righted herself, swallowed hard, and raced across the remaining few stones to land safely on the far bank beside the jaguar.

The alligator smiled toothily at her from beside his log. "You were lucky not to fall in the water, young lady," it said.

Angela did not know what to answer, so she said nothing. But a chill shivered up her spine at the thought of the cold dark water and the evil things in it. She saw that the alligator's eyes were cold and cruel and watching her hungrily.

"She's not going to be your dinner," Georgie said to the 'gator. "She's going to see her very own home up in the trees where ugly old things like you can't bother her."

Kyle Muncrief had closed his office door and locked it. He had pulled down the blinds on his windows so that the office was cool and shadowy despite the afternoon sunshine. He had pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, where Jace had installed the VR equipment.

Muncrief grinned to himself as he fondled the rough-textured data gloves, their wires trailing to the gray electronics box built into the drawer. Not even Vickie knows about this, he said to himself. She thinks she knows everything about me, but she doesn't know about this. If she did—

He broke off that train of thought abruptly. The only person in the world who knew about this equipment was Jace Lowrey. Jace had built it for Muncrief, Jace had programmed the system and was continuing to refine it. He bitches about it and worries out loud about what'll happen if Santorini finds out about it, but actually Jace gets off on it. Not the way I do, of course, but he practically creams his pants over this.

Muncrief smiled inwardly. Of course, not even Jace knows everything I can do. That's the secret of success, Muncrief reminded himself. Never let the right hand know what the left hand is doing. Jace knows some of it. Vickie knows some of it. Neither one of them knows it all and as long as they don't compare notes they won't find out. How much does Smith know? That's the real problem. That's what I need Vickie to find out for me.

He turned his swivel chair around and bent down to slide open the cabinet behind his desk. The helmet was there, bright and glistening and smooth to the touch. Warm, almost as if it were alive. Muncrief ran his hands across its warm smooth curving surface. He raised the helmet in both hands, then lowered it onto his head like Napoleon crowning himself. He pulled the data gloves on, flexed his fingers inside them, admired the craftsmanship of their design, their manufacture. Then he bent down again and powered up the electronics.

Finally he leaned back in his comfortable high-backed leather chair and slid the visor down over his face. He knew he should try to relax, but every nerve in his body was tingling with anticipation.

There were delicious-looking fruits hanging from the trees along the trail, but when Angela picked a russet-golden one and tried to eat it, it turned out to have no taste at all. It was like biting into air.

"You don't need to eat anything here," said Georgie, padding along beside her. "This is a land to look at and listen to, not to taste."

Tossing the tasteless fruit into the bushes, Angela asked, "Would the alligator have tasted anything if he had eaten me?"

"I suppose so," the jaguar replied. "I imagine you would taste absolutely delicious."

"H'mp!"

They walked on through the delightful forest for what seemed like hours.

"When do we get to my tree house?" Angela asked.

"It's just around the bend in the trail."

Angela broke into a happy run and when she rounded the bend in the trail, sure enough, there was a house high up in the trees, with windows and a slanting roof of palm fronds and even a porch in front of its door. Long looping vines hung from the trees and flowers blossomed everywhere, red and gold and brightest blue and purple and sunshine yellow.

"It's beautiful!" said Angela.

The house seemed to be made of living branches and vines, green and leafy, graceful yet strong. And it looked quite large to Angela, more like a palace than an ordinary house.