Memories End (4 page)

“Tech, what the—”

Tech's right hand flashed a signal that he was all right, despite the plain fact that someone or something other than Tech was doing the flying.

Tech could imagine Marz's bewilderment, but he was in no position to put his brother at ease. The gremlin had dropped him into a bright-red shaft that bore a sickening resemblance to an artery, to the bottom of which Tech was now hurtling at incalculable speed. Close behind, the shadow— Scaum—was like crude oil racing through a pipeline, but losing distance with each passing nanosecond.

Tech wanted to say or do something, but he felt completely outside himself, a spectator to all that was occurring. The still unidentified gremlin had also fallen silent, but was continuing to demonstrate its mastery of cyberspace by taking the Baron through loops and rolls Tech wouldn't have thought possible. Then, all at once, he was out of the shaft and back on the grid, though so far from the Ribbon he might as well have been in the Wilds.

A glance at the rearview window revealed that the shadow was nowhere to be seen.

Marz's panicked voice shook him back to awareness.

“Tech, the EPA got a location trace on us! Data torpedoes incoming! We gotta log out!”

Tech glanced at the neon-blue gremlin, which gazed back at him.

“Thanks for the lift,” the gremlin said.

With that, the bloated cybercreature detached it
self from the wing and went streaking off toward the Wilds. Unburdened, the Baron soared to a higher level, handling like its old self once again. Tech powered the biplane through a long bank and made for the Ribbon.

With the Peerless Castle back in sight, he let his brother guide him to the nearest exit port. In a mere five seconds, the visor went from Network-active to transparent mode. The instant the visor cleared, Tech clamped his left hand around the lever that elevated the back of the dentist's chair and shot to his feet.

He wasn't a step from the chair when the cybersystem loosed a computerized
screeech,
and a storm of blue electricity began to gambol and coruscate across the stainless-steel console, which promptly buckled and belched a mushroom cloud of white smoke.

Felix McTurk—slim, dark-haired, and slightly goofy-looking despite his thirty-four years—gave a sharp downward tug to the narrow lapels of his plaid sports jacket as he exited the elevator that had conveyed him to the sixty-fifth floor of the Empire State Building.

This was going to be the first day of his new life he promised himself as he strode with uncharacteristic confidence toward his office at the far end of the hallway. Things were going to take a turn for the better. No more worrying about his dwindling bank account, his confused love life, or the fact that the past decade hadn't turned out exactly as planned. In short, no more negative thinking. Work would pick up, he would pay off all his debts and outstanding violations, and good fortune would shine on him like never before.

Optimism alone was enough to paint
a broad smile on his face. But the smile began to falter as he passed by the Sentinel Insurance Agency, and from behind its heavy hardwood doors came voices raised in dismay, along with a smell of smoldering electronics.

Felix felt his stomach knot, but he quickly regained his composure.

After all, what could Sentinel's woes have to do with him?

His smile returned—though he did have to coax it a bit.

The glass-paneled door to his office read:
FELIX MCTURK, DATA DISCOVERIES: MISSING PERSONS, MISPLACED PROPERTY, DISAPPEARED INFORMATION.
He took hold of the doorknob, but didn't turn it. Instead he cupped his left hand to his ear and leaned against the pebbled-glass panel. Loud humming and whirring noises greeted him, but he heard none of the usual bass rumblings of Immortal Riot or the frantic synthbeat of DJ Finger.

Relieved but still suspicious, Felix twisted the knob and threw the door wide open. Tech was seated at the largest of the office monitors, the hood of his oversize sweatshirt raised and his hazel-eyed gaze fixed intently on the display. Diminutive Marz was across the room, his brown hands buried in the innards of a processor case, installing some unidentifiable piece of hardware.

“Felix,” they said in unison, loudly enough to be heard over the noise of a portable air-conditioner set on full blast and a quartet of ratcheting fans, which were blowing strongly enough to whip
Felix's brimmed cap from his head, send it zipping around the office, and nearly out the open window.

Felix managed to snatch the cap in midflight. Then he glanced around. The console—which in most offices would have been a simple affair of processors, flat-screen monitors, and assorted input devices, but under Tech and Marz's charge had come to resemble a NASA technical station— looked conspicuously serene. No official interrupt-warning icons were pulsing from the screens, and Tech's headset sat neatly on the padded seat of the dentist's chair from which the kids accessed the Virtual Network.

“Why is it like winter in here?” Felix asked, pulling his jacket closed with one hand.

“Cool air makes you more productive,” Tech said.

“Says who?”

“We heard it on the news,” Marz explained, trading quick glances with Tech. “A special report.”

“Then why's the window open? Or are we trying to make all of Manhattan more productive?”

“The report stressed just the right mix of cool and
fresh
air,” Tech explained.

“Uh, huh,” Felix said, planting his tongue in his cheek and nodding.

Casually he began to inch toward the wall switch that controlled the fans. The sight of Marz's widening eyes confirmed his suspicions. Tech saw what was coming and flew from his chair, hoping to reach the wall switch first, but Felix had the
jump on him. No sooner did he throw the switch than wisps of acrid white smoke began to curl from beneath the edges of the console, two of the monitors, and one of the keyboards.

Felix's stomach sank. “Not again!”

“It wasn't our fault!” Marz said. “Not all of it, anyway.”

Felix stared at him, slack-jawed. But before he could ask what it was this time that wasn't their fault, fists began to pound against the office door.

Felix whirled.

“Network Security,” someone shouted from the hallway.

“Closed for lunch,” Tech yelled. “Come back later.”

The pounding continued, forceful enough to rattle the glass panel. “Open up, McTurk.”

Marz had leaped from his chair and was suddenly at the office window. “Quick!” he said. “Building ledge to the window-washers’ scaffold. I've seen it done in movies.”

“Are you crazy?” Tech said. “That's the first place they'll look!”

“McTurk!” a second voice shouted from the hallway. “Don't force us to get a warrant.”

“Yeah, force them to get a warrant,” Tech said. “Force warrant! Force warrant!”

Felix glowered at him, then gestured silently for Marz to shut off the air-conditioner. When the machine's noisy compressor had wound down, Felix moved to the door and opened it.

A fire hydrant of a man shoved a badge in Felix's face as he stormed into the office followed by an
equally stout woman. Both of them were dressed in the gray uniforms of Network Security— syscops.

The man put his stubby hands on his hips and ordered Felix to take a seat. Tech and Marz were edging toward the open door when the woman stepped in their path, blocking their exit.

“Hello, McTurk,” the man began. “This is my partner, Sergeant Policks.”

“Still walking the cyberbeat after all these years, Sergeant Caster?”

“That's
lieutenant,
McTurk.” Caster slammed his hand against the air-conditioning unit. “You have a permit for this thing?”

“It's more like a piece of sculpture,” Tech blurted, instantly regretting it when Felix scowled at him.

Policks sniffed in derision and glanced at the screen of a handheld computer. “This ‘sculpture’ has dropped the temperature in here to fifty-seven degrees, which is in clear violation of the Environmental Regulatory Act as it relates to the conspicuous consumption of energy.”

“I'll get rid of the thing immediately,” Felix said. “Tech, Marz, show this criminal device to the recycling bin.” He forced himself to smile at the two syscops. “I'm also a big fan of clean air and drinkable water.”

“Is that so?” Policks said. “Then how is it that you're continually being fined for recycling violations?”

“It's a conspiracy. Someone keeps mixing plastic bottles in with my regular trash.”

“Save it, McTurk,” Caster said. “You've got bigger problems than a couple of recycling violations.” He approached Felix in a menacing way. “Earlier this morning, someone made an unauthorized Network run into the EPA's violations division.”

Felix barely managed to keep from looking at Tech. “You're accusing me? On what grounds?”

Caster grinned nastily. “On the grounds that the only EPA file tampered with was
yours.”

“Oh,”
Felix said, blinking.

“The penetration was traced to the neural-net computer next door,” Policks took over. “But once we took a closer look at the machine, what do you think we found?”

“That it hadn't been dusted in years?” Tech said.

Caster's round face flushed with anger. “We found an illegal timeshare patch, McTurk—a patch we have good reason to believe leads right here.”

Felix feigned outrage. “Of all the—”

“Our records show that you've got a long history of questionable Network operations,” Policks cut him off.

“Runs are part of my business,” Felix said.

“And illegal runs are part of ours,” Caster said.

“This lastest violation of Network space has put you over the top,” Policks said. “As of immediately, you're shut down.”

Felix shot to his feet. “You can't do that! How am I supposed to conduct business if I can't use my system? If you can't cut me some slack, do it for the boys.”

Caster almost laughed. “Your long-term future's
not our concern, data dick. You've got twenty-four hours to settle up with Network Security
and
with the EPA. What's more, we catch you doing another illegal run, you'll be barred permanently from entering the Network.”

Policks keyed a code into her handheld device, and not a moment later every monitor in the office was displaying a Network Security warning trefoil and a countdown timer.

While Felix was groaning, Caster let his stern gaze settle on Tech and Marz. “Why aren't you two in school?”

“Teachers conference,” Marz said quickly.

“Snow day,” Tech said at the same time.

The security man nodded dubiously, then he and his partner turned to go. Waiting in the hallway when they opened the door was a spindly woman with pinched features and dull-brown hair that curtained a narrow face. As if in defiance of the weather, she was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a wool skirt that fell nearly to her ankles.

“And who might you be?” Policks asked.

“Fidelia Temper,” the woman said firmly, peering around Policks for a glimpse of the office. “I'm a counselor at the Safehaven group home on Fifty-sixth Street.”

Caster jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “If you're looking for McTurk, he's inside. But I doubt he'll be here for much longer.”

“That would suit me fine,” Fidelia Temper said.

Policks showed her a twisted smile. “Your little hot-rodders are in there, too.”

Fidelia shouldered between Policks and Caster
and stepped boldly into the office. Felix was sitting with his head in his hands.

“Mr. McTurk,” she barked.

Felix glanced up at her, and his face fell even more. “Please, no flying monkeys,” he muttered.

Muffled giggles came from the behind the closet door.

“Where are the boys, Mr. McTurk?” Fidelia said, her voice dripping with malice. She advanced a step and planted her hands on her hips. “Well?”

“Boys?”

Felix turned to where Tech and Marz had been sitting only moments earlier, then cut his gaze to the office closet. Frowning angrily, he walked across the room and pulled open the door, sending the two brothers tumbling to the carpet.

“You mean these boys? The ones who were supposed to be working on a case for me but decided instead to take a joy run into the EPA's Network construct?”

“You must have us mixed up with the other boys,” Marz said.

“We were only trying to scarf some of your violations,” Tech explained, getting to his feet.

“Well, nice going,
Jesse,”
Felix said, using Tech's actual name. He gestured toward the cyberconsole. “Your help's not only brought the EPA down on my back, but Network Security, too.”

“It was all my idea,” Marz said, stepping forward.

Tech punched his brother gently on the arm and gave him a “no way” look.

Fidelia Temper scowled at Felix. “I know you think you're helping Jesse and Marshall by employing them here. But I will not tolerate your doing that at the expense of their education.”

When neither Tech nor Marz would meet his gaze, Felix looked at Fidelia. “No teachers conference? No snow day?”

She shook her head. “I want them back in school this moment!” She turned and stamped out of the office.

Felix shot Tech and Marz a withering look. “When are you two going to wise up?”

“Tomorrow,” Tech said, offering a Scout's honor salute.

Felix compressed his lips. “Not soon enough. You're not flying for me anymore.”

Tech's jaw dropped. “Felix, you don't mean that. You need us. You don't even
like
to fly.”

“That's beside the point,” Felix said, waving his arms about. “Look at this mess. I'm ruined!”

“We can have the system back up and running in no time,” Marz said.

“What, so you can make another illegal run into the Motor Vehicle Bureau or somewhere?” He studied them for a moment. “How'd you get past EPA security, anyway?”

“You don't want to know,” Tech said.

“New software we got from the Warehouse,” Marz said sheepishly.

Felix held his hands to his ears. “I don't want to know.”

“Told ya,” Tech said.

“Felix,” Marz said with sudden enthusiasm. “Something bizarre happened on the run. First, this program gremlin landed on the Baron's wing.”