Death Dream (52 page)

"There was an amputee at this one. A man with only one arm."

"Why in the world are you asking about that?"

"Jace has pulled a lot of papers on phantom limbs, over the years. Right now, here at ParaReality, he's buddy-buddy with a North Carolina redneck who's lost an arm and a leg."

"Jace?"

"That's what I said."

A long silence on the phone. Then, "The only amputee I ever knew well enough to invite to a party here at the house was Hoot Johnson."

"Who was he?"

"He's still alive," Appleton said, a tang of irritation in his voice. "Retired major from the medical service. Lost his arm on a combat mission in Vietnam. He worked at the base hospital for a few years before he retired from the Air Force."

"Do you know where he is now?" Dan asked.

"Haven't the foggiest notion."

"Can you track him down?"

He sensed Appleton shrugging. "I can try. If you really think it's important."

"I don't know, Doc. But I think we've got to track down every possible lead, don't you?"

"Dan, you sound like a detective investigating a murder."

Without hesitation Dan replied, "Two murders, Doc. Two of them."

Jace cranked his black recliner up to its sitting position. He could not relax, could not sleep. This business with Muncrief is getting to be a real crock of shit, he told himself. But I don't know how to get myself out of it.

The friggin' sonofabitch isn't satisfied with what I've done for him. He wants more: more realism, more physical sensation. Maybe I oughtta just put enough amps into the feedback loop to fry his brain altogether. Serve him right, the friggin' pervert.

He swung his long legs off the chair and bent over to tug off his boots. It was always a struggle but somehow the physical exertion helped to make his mind work better.

This time, though, all he could think of was Muncrief's sorrowful, almost tearful pleading for a more realistic simulation. The only way to make it more realistic, Jace knew, was to get more emotional reactions out of Dan's kid.

If Dan ever finds out! Jace finally yanked one boot off his foot and tossed it halfway across his cluttered room. If Dan ever finds out he'll go gonzo on me. All that Italian crap in him will explode. He'll turn into a nut case.

Straining at the other boot, Jace wondered if there was some way to satisfy Muncrief while leaving Dan's daughter alone. Maybe I can cross-link the program did for Ralph and Dottie; use the physical sensations recorded there and plug 'em into Muncrief's program. If Kyle wants to feel like he's fucking the kid, let him fuck Dorothy. Only she'll look like a twelve-year-old to him. That could work.

The boot pulled free at last and Jace nearly toppled off the edge of the chair.

Naw, he realized. It won't work. Muncrief would be getting the reactions from a grown woman who likes to fuck: That's not what he wants. That's not what makes him sweat. He wants an innocent little kid. He wants to be the big daddy screwing his own daughter.

Jace got up and paced the room in his stockinged feet, oblivious to the computer chips and other debris littering the bare plywood floor boards.

How much does Dan know? Or suspect? Susie's been complaining to Vickie, I know. But what do they know for sure?

Hell, I'm not hurting their kid. Scared her the first time, I guess, but that was Kyle, not me. Dumb bastard's too damned eager, doesn't listen to what I tell him. I won't hurt the girl. But Dan wouldn't see it that way. It's his daughter and he'll want blood.

Jace stopped his pacing and stared at the scuffed VR helmet sitting next to one of his computers. His long, lantern-jawed face eased into a slow smile.

Okay, pal. If he's gonna come after me I guess I better get ready. I can handle Dan. Always could and always will. But I've gotta deal with him on my terms.

The poor bastard won't have a chance.

CHAPTER 40

To a stranger the Santorini kitchen might have looked like a television commercial for breakfast foods. Philip was in his high chair, spooning up mashed fruit from a colorful plastic bowl and managing to get a fair amount of it into his mouth; the rest was on his chin, cheeks, and baby bib.

The baby was separated from the rest of the family, at the end of the kitchen table. At the other end sat Angela with a larger bowl of cereal and fruit. Susan sat between her two children, munching on a slice of thin toast, while Dan sat opposite her in his crisply starched short-sleeved white shirt, hardly touching his plate of sunny-side-up eggs.

"Angel," he said, "there's something I want to tell you. Something important."

Angela looked up from her cereal.

"Your mother and I want you to stop using the VR games for a while—"

Her eyes widened. She began to whine, "Da-aa-dy!"

Susan reached out and grasped her slim arm. "Only for a while, baby."

"But why? I
like
the games."

Susan looked across the table at her husband. Dan's stomach was already clenching inside him.

As calmly as he could, he said, "There are a few things I need to check out about those games, Angel. As soon as I've done that, you'll be able to play them again."

"You can still use the VR for your lessons. It's only the games that we want you to stay out of."

"What's wrong with the games? I
like
them!"

Dan had spent half the night rehearsing this, yet he still felt totally unprepared to face his twelve-year-old daughter.

"Well," he said, hoping he had the right argument to convince her, "it's sort of like eating chocolate. You like chocolate, don't you?"

"Sure."

"And what happens when you eat too much of it?,

"You get zits."

Dan blinked with confusion. He had expected her to say she would get a belly-ache.

"And fat," Susan chimed in.

"Sometimes," Dan went on, trying to cover up his surprise, "we have to stop doing things we really like to do because they're not all that good for us."

"The VR games aren't hurting me."

"Maybe not," he admitted. .But I want to check them out and make sure."

Angela's fair-skinned face clouded into a childish frown. "If there was anything wrong with them, Mrs. O'Connell wouldn't let us play them."

"I've already talked with her on the phone this morning," said Susan.

"And you told her I can't play the games?" Angela looked shocked.

"It's for your own good, sweetie," Dan said.

"All the other kids can play the games!" she shouted. "They'll all laugh at me!"

"No they won't—"

"They will! They will! You don't want me to play because I'm happy in the games! The prince loves me and he wants me to stay with him and you just want to make me miserable!"

"Prince?" Susan looked startled.

"If I can't play the games I won't go to school!"

"All right," Susan said. "You can stay home today."

"No," Dan snapped. "school's important. You go to school today and every day. You just don't play the VR games until I tell you it's okay. Is that clear, young lady?"

There were tears in Angela's eyes, but she nodded silently.

"Now go wash your face and get ready for the school bus," Dan said sternly.

Slowly she got up from the table, lower lip trembling.

"I'll help you," Susan said. She got up too.

Dan sat there, morning sunlight streaming through the alcove windows, his eggs congealing into an unappetizing mess. Philip banged his spoon on the high-chair tray, grinning widely, his face smeared with his breakfast.

Dan made a smile for his son, thinking that boys are much easier to deal with than daughters.

Susan came back and untied Philip's bib. She started to clean the baby's face with the back side of it.

"The bus come already? I didn't hear—"

"She's sitting in her room for a few minutes. She's really upset, Dan."

"We've got to do this."

"I know, but she can't understand why."

"Maybe we should tell her."

"No." The sharpness of her voice made the baby jump. Philip looked up at his mother, reached for her. Susan automatically patted his cheek as she said to Dan, "That would just frighten her."

He realized he was gnawing his lip. "Maybe a little scare would help her to see how serious this is."

"She knows we're serious."

"What was that about a prince that loves her?"

"Something in the games. I don't know. She's that age, you know. She's looking for romance."

Dan's nostrils flared. "That's how girls get pregnant."

"Oh for God's sake! We're talking about virtual reality games here, not real boys."

"We're talking about Kyle or Jace or somebody trying to get into her mind, Sue. And maybe more than that."

Susan stared at him for a moment. Then, "You're right," she whispered.

"She seems attached to the games, doesn't she?"

"She's just afraid of being ridiculed by the other kids. You know how children tease."

But Dan shook his head. "I wonder if it's more than that. She seems really hooked on the games. Like an addict."

"You're exaggerating," Susan said. But there was no conviction in her tone, and inwardly she worried that Dan was right.

"You spoke to her teacher already?"

"That was a white lie," Susan answered as she lifted Philip from his high chair. "Eleanor wouldn't be at the school this early. I'll phone her as soon as the school bus picks Angie up."

"Better tell her to keep an eye on Angie, see if she seems emotionally bothered by all this."

Susan nodded grimly while Phil examined her ear with his sticky fingers.

The reception lobby was empty this early on a Monday morning, Chuck Smith saw as he headed for Vickie's office. He glanced at his wristwatch: not even seven-thirty yet. Plenty of time to meet Perry's plane at the airport.

Time to mend fences with Vickie
, he thought.

She was already working at her keyboard, looking stylish and capable in a gold silk pants suit. She sensed Chuck at the office door, looked up and smiled coolly at him. She had been very cool the past two nights. They had dined together at quiet romantic restaurants but that had been it. Vickie had said goodnight to him and driven home by herself. Smith realized he had gone too far with her on Friday night. He blamed it on the power rush from his first VR experience.

"It won't happen again," he had promised, over candlelight and wine.

Vickie had nodded, smiling knowingly. Now he wondered if she would ever go to bed with him again.
Well
, he rationalized,
maybe it's better that we don't. If we're going to be working together maybe we shouldn't let sex snarl things up between us. Besides, there are plenty of other twats available. Younger ones, too.

So he smiled back at Vickie as he stepped across her oriental carpet and sat himself on the little love-seat.

"You're in early," she said.

"Yeah. I don't think anybody else is in the building this early except you and me—and the security guard at the front door."

"How are things in Washington?"

For an instant he felt a pang of alarm.
How much does she know?
he wondered.
How much should I tell her?

Then he relaxed and gave her a satisfied grin. "Everything's fine. An . . . associate of mine is coming in this morning at ten-thirty."

"If the plane's on time."

"This one will be. It's a private jet, special VIP service."

"Courtesy of the American taxpayer," Vickie murmured.

Smith let it pass. "By the way," he said, "I don't think that man Peterson will be bugging you anymore. We've scared him off."

Vickie looked genuinely relieved, but all she said was, "Good." Then she added, "Thank you."

He got up from the loveseat.

"Don't go," Vickie said.

Smith let himself settle back in the little sofa.

"Chuck, I've got to know what this is all about. This job that Jace is doing for you."

"I told you—"

"The
real
reason, Chuck," Vickie said. "I've been thinking hard about this. There's more to it than creating an information system for the White House."

He gave her a long, silent look. She was utterly serious. She's bright, Smith told himself. And ambitious.

"If I'm going to be a part of your game," Vickie said, .I want to know the whole story. Otherwise . . ."She let the thought hang in the air between them.

"Otherwise what?" he asked, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"I can pull Jace off the job. I can tell Kyle we should stop the project. I could even let the news media know who you are. Then you'd have to tell them why you're here."

"That wouldn't be smart, Vic."

She made a smile for him. "You know I don't want to do any of those things, Chuck. But I have to know the whole story. What are you really up to?"

Again Smith hesitated, thinking,
How far can I trust her? She's ambitious, sure enough, but can she be loyal?

Would she be willing to go all the way with us?

"Chuck?" she prompted.

You've got to make decisions in this business, he told himself. There's nobody else here to fall back on. It's my call.

"Okay," he said, letting out a breath he had not been aware of holding in. "Okay."

Vickie sat up straighter in her chair, expectantly.

"How do you like the way your government works, Vickie?"

"What?"

"How do you like the way your elected representatives keep on screwing up everything? The economy's in a mess, foreigners are buying up the whole damned country, the cities are falling apart, drugs are destroying our children, our so-called allies thumb their noses at us, the Congress is in a perpetual gridlock and the President's more worried about his popularity ratings than getting anything done."

"So what else is new?" Vickie quipped.

"Virtual reality. That's what new."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do," Smith said. "You just haven't taken it to its logical conclusion."

"What do you mean?"

"Control the information input and you control the decision, right?"