Vista City

" Water Dictatorship"

(1997)

By

Jay P. Hailey

and

The Vista City Players

 

1983: Los Angeles

Angelo drove out of Hollywood gleefully. He had just presented his case for the 1942 MacPhearson murder. MacPhearson was a movie producer of Hollywood's Golden Age. His murder stumped the police of the 1940's and was one of the favorites of the "Hollywood Detectives".

Angelo was new to the fan club. They spent hours studying the lives and deaths of celebrities. Of course, critical evidence was now lost to time, but Angelo was certain that his scenario was likely. His compatriots in the Hollywood Detectives felt the same way.

Angelo drove back home happily aware of the approval of his friends. It was neat.

Angelo was doing well in UCLA's advanced physics course. His parents were mystified but glad that he was happy.

Best of all Angelo was on his way to propose to his true love. Randi was a fellow student at UCLA. Her major was computer science. Angelo loved her bubbly enthusiasm. He was especially happy that she didn't seem especially interested in his family's money. Too many women were very attracted to him once they discovered that he was from a wealthy family. Randi seemed to like him just for himself.

Angelo drove up to her apartment and parked his old Impala. That was part of what mystified Angelo's parents. Although they were rich and Angelo, in his course would inherit a sizable fortune, He insisted on working and earning what he could on his own. The old beater was a symptom of this. Angelo earned it through his own efforts. It really meant something to him. Mummy and Daddy might buy him a much newer, more reliable car with more extras and luxuries in it, but it wouldn't really be real. Angelo wasn't totally obsessed on this point. He didn't turn down a chance to go to UCLA, but he chose science as a career rather than economics or business management.

Angelo bounced up the stairs. His joy made the Earth's gravity seem lighter. It felt as though he could take the whole staircase in a single bound. He rang the doorbell. It sounded cheery.

There was no answer for a bit. Angelo listened carefully. He could hear feet padding across the floor of Randi's apartment. He rang the doorbell again. It made a cheery little ding-dong noise. Angelo knew for a fact that the doorbell was cheap and annoying. His mind was seriously warped by the pleasant emotions that flooded it. Angelo took a deep breath and enjoyed it.

Randi's eye covered the peephole. Angelo waved at her, beaming. She was home from her math tutoring. That was part of how Randi earned her way through school.

The door opened to show Randi. Angelo said "Hi," sheepishly. Randi was disheveled and wearing her bathrobe. Angelo eyed her figure under the robe. Even right out of a nap, she looked wonderful. Angelo couldn't stop grinning.

"Angelo." Randi said. "Good to see you. C'mon in."

Angelo bounced into Randi's apartment. "I know you weren't expecting me tonight, but I just had to talk to you."

"I wanted to talk to you, too." Randi said.

"Really? Then it's a good thing that I decided to drop by." Angelo grinned.

Angelo's grin fell off his face when Biff Simmons came out of Randi's bedroom. Biff was wearing a towel and not much else. Angelo could see his expensive tan, his health club muscles and his first class pedicure.

"What going on?" Angelo said weakly.

"I've been meaning to tell you..." Randi said softly. She was trying to think of a way to soften the blow, but it was far too late. "I've been seeing other people."

"But, but..." Angelo said. He felt like someone had hit him in the chest with a baseball bat. Biff Simmons was a prime example of the type of self-satisfied rich boys that Angelo despised. All through grade school and prep school, Angelo had to fight to distance himself from the company of morons like Biff. His wealthy parents didn't understand that, either.

"Angelo, look. I like you. You're nice. But nice just isn't enough." Randi explained.

"What?" Angelo couldn't believe his ears.

"Look at you Angelo. You drive old wrecks. You poke around in old dusty records as your hobby, and you're a straight nuclear science major. Do you know what physicists make?" Randi explained.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Angelo asked.

"Angelo, honey, you're not going anywhere. A girl needs to think about her future. We had fun, but I don't see any future for us."

"And you think you have a future with him?" Angelo pointed at Biff's chest. Biff smirked at him. There were winners and losers. Today, Biff was the winner.

"Maybe with him or maybe on my own, but I'm going to have a bright future, Angelo. A comfortable little life at a small university stagnating does not appeal to me." Randi said.

"You're dumping me for Biff?" Angelo cried.

"No, not exactly, it's just that, well I don't think that a relationship is in the cards for us Angelo." She delivered the coup de gras. "I hope we can still be friends."

Angelo turned and left Randi's apartment.

-*-

1997: Vista City

Angelo looked at the report with sense of far away sadness. It blinked idly on his computer, of no real consequence. He was a cop in Vista City now. L.A. hadn't been his beat for a couple of years.

He had his net-mail daemon set to search for any mention of Randi Aiken. Now she was Randi Aiken-Marlowe, wife of the richest electronics entrepreneur in Southern California, just like she said she wanted.

Except that the newest report had her as the late Mrs. Randi Aiken-Marlowe. She was tragically deceased in a traffic accident in the canyons north of the city, survived by her grieving husband.

Angelo knew that this should be the end of it. He should be free now. He wasn't. He had to go and see in person. Then he would be free.

Angelo got up from his desk and walked into Scott Ashby's office. Scott was his supervisor in the Vista City Police Department. He had white hair that used to be blond and frivolous taste in ties.

"Scott? Can I have some time off?" Angelo asked.

"Why?" Scott asked.

"An old friend died. I'd like to look into it and see if there's any way I can help."

Scott thought about it. "We have the movie up here to film in a couple of weeks. I'd like you back in time to help us with the security on that. And take your cell phone in case an emergency comes up."

Angelo rolled his eyes. "Security on a movie set? I'm a homicide detective! Let them hire security guards."

"Sorry. That's why we're the Special Squad. I have the operational freedom to let you wander off for a couple of weeks here and there, but we have to pull the tedious details." Scott explained. "Call it paying your dues."

"Yeah, right." Angelo turned to leave. "I'll be back on time."

"Thanks, Angelo. I'm sorry about your friend."

"Me, too." Angelo said.

-*-

Angelo never got used to the fact that it took longer to drive to the airport in San Francisco than to fly from San Francisco to Los Angeles.

LAX was the usual madhouse. It always seemed worse than he remembered. Eventually he picked up his rental sedan and drove out to the crash site up in the canyons north of Hollywood.

The wreck was right where the report said it was. A red Masarati sports car lay wadded up at the bottom of the cliff as though some giant child had discarded it.

A plain-wrapped police sedan was there. Two people were poking around the wreck near the bottom of the hill. Angelo climbed down the embankment on the narrow path that wound up and down the cliff. It looked like a goat path; except that there were no surviving goats loose in L.A. County any more. People hiking up and down the canyon for their own reasons cut the path.

At the bottom of the path, Angelo met the two people who were poking around.

One was a man slightly taller than Angelo, with brown hair, brown eyes and a deep tan. He had a rectangular kindly face. The other person was a blond woman with a graceful dancer's body.

"Hello." Angelo called. "I'm Angelo Mancuso. Is this the Randi Aiken-Marlowe scene?"

"Yes." The man answered "I'm Jim Anderson." He waved his badge "LAPD."

"I'm Shiela Franks." The woman replied. "Didn't you work for the downtown precinct a couple of years ago?"

"Yes. I was in Homicide." Angelo said.

"Huh. Where are you working now?" Anderson said.

"A small town up north, Vista City." Angelo admitted.

"What's your interest in this case?" Franks asked.

"Personal. I used to know Mrs. Aiken-Marlowe." Angelo said.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Anderson said. "I don't know what all I can tell you, here."

"Just tell me happened, please." Angelo said.

"Hmp. Do you have your ID?" Shiela asked.

Angelo clapped his pocket and drew out his badge. He showed it to the two Los Angeles Detectives.

"I suppose that counts as a sort of courtesy consultation, doesn't it?" Franks said.

"Well, Detective, it seems pretty straight forwards. Last night around 2200, The victim seemed to go off the road up there. The car rolled down the hill. The victim died of blunt force trauma. She didn't seem to be wearing her seat belt. The first officer on the scene reported the smell of alcohol on the body and in the car." Anderson said. "I'm sorry, I suppose that sounds little impersonal to you."

"Don't worry about it." Angelo said. "I suppose her body was sent down to the county hospital?"

"Yeah." Franks said "That's where she is."

"Detective Franks, weren't you the one who broke the Halston case in 1990?" Angelo asked.

The woman grinned ruefully. "Well, actually I had some help."

"Does that make you a homicide detective?" Angelo asked.

"Well, mostly." Franks said. "We're sort of catch all detectives."

"That's my job, too." Angelo admitted. "Does your presence mean that there's more to this case than meets the eye?"

"Don't read too much into it, Detective." Anderson warned. "We're just dotting the i's and crossing the t's."

"We weren't able to find her purse." Franks said.

"Really?" Angelo asked. Women rarely leave home without a purse or some such thing to carry personal effects in. The absence of a purse was often a marker of foul play.

"That doesn't mean much. Look at the car. If the purse was thrown free, then it could be anywhere around here."

"Well, maybe the coroner's report will settle it." Angelo said.

Anderson shifted uncomfortably. "Don't plan too much on seeing that report, Detective."

"You're still unpopular downtown." Franks said. "If the Captain asks, we'll just say we told you to go away, now. If we show you that report, then we could land in a lot of hot water."

Angelo shrugged. "I won't tell if you don't."

Anderson shook his head. "Her husband is John Marlowe."

"I recognize the name." Angelo's tone was wry.

"If there's anything hinky about the case, then we'll be crucified in the press." Anderson said. "Maybe you got out, but we have to live here and work here when you're gone."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to interfere in your case."

"I'm sorry, too." Anderson said. "She must have meant something to you for you to go halfway across the state for, but it's really for the best if you don't poke around in this thing too much."

"Yeah," Franks said. "Personal involvement and all that. I promise we'll drop you a line when the case closes up. I'll answer all your questions then, Okay?"

"All right." Angelo sighed. He turned and climbed back up to the road.

-*-

"Hi, Billy." Angelo said.

"Angelo!" The assistant coroner turned around. "What a surprise! How ya been?"

"I've been okay. How about yourself?"

"Well I been hangin' in there. Where have you been keeping yourself? I haven't seen you around here in a while." Billy asked.

Angelo grinned. "I got reassigned."

"Ah yeah, the usual stuff. The guys in the suits just don't have a clue, do they?" Billy shook his head.

"No. Not a clue." Angelo admitted. "Listen do you have the report on Randi Aiken-Marlowe?"

"Who? Oh, the blonde out on Laurel Canyon last night, yeah." Billy shuffled through his stack of reports. "He we are. She blew her flying lesson Angelo. Boom, right over the cliff."

"It was a sweet Masarati. Too bad it didn't have wings." Angelo agreed. "She might have made it."

"Maybe, maybe not." Billy said. "She was wasted. That might be why she didn't see the cliff."

"Wasted? On what?" Angelo asked.

"Secobarbital. There's a ton of it in her system." Billy said. "I'm surprised she stayed conscious long enough to get up in the canyon in the first place."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Angelo probed. "What's her liver look like?" Liver damage is characteristic of long-term drug abuse. If Randi had been taking downers for a long time, then her liver would say so.

"I look like a damned egg-head to you?" Billy said. He wasn't qualified to make the diagnosis. If he poked around the body without due cause, then he would get into major trouble. "Some rich guy's wife tranks herself up and drives off a cliff. Seems pretty straight forward to me."

"Well I've got to take the report back to the office with me." Angelo reached towards Billy's file. "You never know."

Yeah, okay." Billy shrugged. "Just don't spill coffee on my originals, okay?"

Angelo scooped up the file and walked out of the morgue and into the hallways of the Los Angeles County Hospital. Angelo took his badge on its leather holder and stuck it in his pocket like he used to wear his LAPD badge. Most people were not observant enough to realize that it wasn't a normal badge for L.A.

Angelo took the file on Randi's death up two flights to the administration office and used a photocopier there to make duplicates of the files. Randi's liver had not been examined. It probably wouldn't be. Everything looked as accidental as could be. Angelo was deep in thought as he returned to the morgue with the file.

Angelo had to admit to himself that it seemed accidental. It just didn't feel right. It didn't seem in character for Randi to pop pills, but who could really tell. It had been fifteen years. People change.

Angelo walked into Billy's office. "Billy, may I look at the body?"

"Sure, Angelo. Right back here." Billy led the way back to the refrigerated boxes that held the dead bodies. Angelo was familiar with the place. He'd been there a lot to visit the dead. Part of Angelo's mind was all business, there was nothing here that he hadn't seen before. Another part of mind was wrestling with the idea that it was Randi.

Billy pulled door number twenty three. The body rolled out on its shelf. A sheet covered her. Billy swept the sheet back. Angelo was struck by how still and empty Randi's body looked. As if the essential ingredients of Randi weren't there.

The businesslike portion of his mind took over and cataloged the damage that the body sustained. There was heavy trauma to the head. A touch here and there confirmed it. Her skull was broken. There were a couple of bruises on her face, near the mouth and on the eye.

"Hmm." Angelo thought. He examined Randi's wrists. They were bruised. The knuckles on Randi's right hand were scraped raw.

"Do these look like defense wounds to you?" Angelo asked.

"Fer Christ's sake, Angelo, she rolled down a cliff in a car without her seat belt. Those might be defense wounds, and they might be road rash, Okay? There's no way to say for sure." Billy sighed.

"How'd the secobarbital get into her system?" Angelo asked.

"Right here. She shot it." Billy pointed out a pin prick hole on Randi's right arm.

"In her right arm?" Angelo asked. "She was right handed. That doesn't make sense."

"Hey, you're the detective here. I just bag 'em and tag 'em." Billy said.

Angelo gave Billy a hard look.

"All right, all right, I'll put 'em in the report. The coroner will have to look at 'em then." Billy said.

"Thanks." Angelo said.

There was a knock from the front desk. Some one who didn't know Billy was there.

Billy and Angelo walked out to the front desk of the morgue. John Marlowe was there. He looked just like his pictures in the weekly news magazines. There was a shorter bald man with him.

"Which one of you is the attendant?" Marlowe said. Angelo noted that he looked calm and self possessed.

"You're Mr. Marlowe, right? I'm Billy Alcott, the assistant medical examiner, here." Billy didn't reach out to shake. He'd worked in the morgue for too long.

"Who are you?" Marlowe asked Angelo.

"I'm Angelo Mancuso." Angelo introduced himself.

"And what are you doing here?" Marlowe asked.

"He's the detective on your wife's case." Billy said. "You won't find a better detective in L.A., Mr. Marlowe. If there's any thing unusual about your wife's death, then you can rest assured that Angelo here will track it down."

Angelo could feel his face get hot. "It's really just a routine inquiry, Sir. Just standard procedure." It was the basic reassurance given to loved ones during the opening phase of the investigation.

"Well, I'm sorry to take up your time like this officer. I told Randi to lay off the pills, but..." Marlowe seemed distracted.

"May I see your identification, please, Officer?" The other man said.

"Who are you?" Angelo asked.

"I'm Ira Johnson, Mr. Marlowe's legal council." The man introduced himself. He didn't offer to shake either.

Angelo gulped and handed his identification to the lawyer. Johnson read it. "I see. And what interest does Vista City have in Mrs. Marlowe?"

"Huh?" Billy asked.

"If you'll look carefully at Detective Mancuso's badge, you'll find that it is not an LAPD badge, Mr. Alcott." Johnson said.

"Isn't Vista City way up north of San Francisco?" Marlowe asked.

"Yes, Sir." Angelo said. "I'm not here in an official capacity. I knew Randi Aiken personally some time ago. I was curious about the circumstances of her death."

"Aw, Angelo!" Billy cried. He could see his job and all the perks and benefits he had worked for over the last eight years flying away. "Aw man!"

"This is highly irregular, Detective. Possibly unethical." Johnson said. "I suggest you secure a lawyer, immediately." Johnson almost had a smile on his face. His eyes were glittering.

"Johnson, not now." Marlowe said. "I'm sorry. Angelo, isn't it?"

"I apologize, Sir." Angelo said.

"Not at all. I understand. Randi had a magnetic personality. We'll have to get together sometime and you can tell me where you knew Randi from. She never mentioned you." Marlowe reached out and shook Angelo's hand.

"Well, ah, I'll just be going, now." Angelo said.

"That would be wise." Johnson said.

Angelo turned and began to walk away.

"Don't forget your papers." Billy said. He shot Angelo a hard look.

Angelo scooped up the photocopies of the death reports. He met Billy's eyes, but didn't say anything. He promised himself that if Billy was fired or sued then he'd make it better. Having rich parents was very handy at times. Could they buy Billy a new sense of trust?

"For your sake, Detective, I hope those aren't about Mrs. Marlowe. That would be a tragedy." Johnson warned.

"No , Sir, not at all." Angelo said. He left the morgue.

-*-

Angelo checked into the Hilton Airport on Century Boulevard just down the road from the airport. He settled into the generic room and spread the death report around the desk. Randi's death was probably an accident, he told himself. After ten years as a professional homicide detective, Angelo knew that there were always loose ends that didn't really fit. It was the nature of the beast. People were never entirely consistent. In death they left inconsistencies scattered around their bodies like the rest of their belongings.

It simply didn't feel right. Angelo couldn't decide if it was his instincts or his emotions nagging him. He'd never really settled his feelings for Randi. Now, would he ever?

Angelo decided to just do what came naturally. If he didn't come up with any clues in the next couple of days, then he'd go home.

Statistically, it's about twelve times more likely that someone close to you will kill you than a complete stranger. Therefore, the logical course of investigation was to dig into Randi's close family.

That meant John Marlowe primarily.

Angelo turned to the computer in the hotel room. It was a generic model that the hotel provided so that businessmen could generate more reports, hold more teleconferences and look at more dirty pictures from the net. Angelo turned it on and logged into the network. Then he tried to contact his computer at the Vista City Police Station. He had powerful search engines in it, and heavy-duty network access.

The hotel computer beeped and complained at him. There was an incompatibility somewhere. Both computers used the wildly popular Geos operating system. It wasn't as though they had much choice. Geos dominated the market. Technically the Geos system was mediocre, but it was powered by a marketing juggernaut. More technically apt systems never developed the following or the number of applications that piled up behind the Geos system.

The problem was in the networking. In Vista City they used the generic GeosNetwork, the widespread companion to the Geos system. Again it was technically mediocre, but widespread and convenient to use.

The Century Hilton used the Los Angeles Business Network, the company owned and run by John Marlowe.

The problem seemed to be in convincing the two competitor networks to exchange data cooperatively. Eventually Angelo had to agree to pay a service fee to both networks before he could access his working computer.

A quick search showed that Randi's parents lived in Minnesota. A whereabouts search authorized by Angelo's police status turned up the data that Randi's father was checked into Minneapolis General Hospital. Mrs. Aiken had used her ATM card in the hospital within eight hours. The reason Mr. Aiken was in the hospital was listed as treatment for prostate cancer. Angelo shelved Randi's parents. He would return to them if anything seemed to warrant it.

Then Angelo turned to John Marlowe. The LABN had glowing biographies and the happy opinion that Marlowe was a visionary. The GeosNetwork didn't even want to admit that he existed. It took Angelo a good deal of effort and riding his Vista City Police status pretty heavily before he got into any serious data.

The Los Angeles Business Network was the only serious competitor to the GeosNetwork in Los Angeles. Other competitors had been forced out of the market or out of business altogether years ago. GeosNetwork used its huge profit margin from other areas to finance cut-throat tactics in Los Angeles. John Marlowe survived by owning a cable television company and turning it into an electronic powerhouse. With the equipment inherited, modified and invented by Zox Cable, the Los Angeles Business Network reached everywhere in Los Angeles like an octopus. In order to build and buy all of this equipment, John Marlowe and his companies were all in hock up to their eyebrows. Multimillionaire John Marlowe was close to being broke. If things kept going the same way, Marlowe and the LABN had another eighteen months at best before GeosNetwork won the battle for the hearts, minds and computers of Los Angeles.

-*-

The next morning Angelo walked into the downtown precinct of the LAPD. His Vista City badge was again prominently displayed. Again, no one gave it a second look and he had total access to the building.

Angelo took the elevator up to the fourth floor and walked down the hallway to the far side of the building. That was where the Investigations department of the downtown precinct was housed. Not too much had changed there since Angelo and Marcus last stepped through the doors on their way out. It was Angelo's first visit in two and a half years.

Angelo walked onto the old office work floor and saw Anderson and Franks hard at work at their desks.

Angelo walked up to them and said "Good morning."

Anderson looked up and became very serious. Franks started to grin merrily.

"Well, Detective, what brings you down here?" Franks smirked.

Angelo put his file of photocopies on her desk. "I was digging around and I came up with a couple of things that might interest you."

Anderson said "I thought I asked you to lay off this thing."

"He's not the type." Franks said.

"Sorry, I'm not." Angelo admitted.

"Okay," Anderson conceded. "One thing. You're a visitor, here. This is our case. You are assisting us, not the other way around. Do you read me, Detective?"

"Sure." Angelo said. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

Franks snickered. "Sure you don't."

"What have you got?" Anderson asked.

Angelo gave them a run down on his data.

"Well, that's interesting." Anderson said when he was through. "I wonder how it relates to the wife's death?"

"I don't know, yet. It's just one or two pieces. We can make more sense of it after we get more pieces." Angelo said.

"We don't even know if the wife's death was foul play. The current theory is that it was an accident." Franks said.

"True. The pieces may line up that way. We don't know until we have the pieces in hand."

"Ahem." Captain Brown said.

Angelo turned to see his old supervisor standing over him with a characteristically sour look on his face.

"Hello." Angelo said. He wanted to say annoying things to his old boss but found that he was still locked into the role of straight man. Marcus was the one who would make the snide comments, and then Angelo would keep a deadly straight face that sent Brown through the roof.

"Well, if it isn't Ex-Detective Mancuso." Brown said. "I thought I made it plain the last time. You aren't welcome here."

"Actually, I'm still a Detective." Angelo said.

"Not around here you're not! What makes you think that giving cows parking tickets qualifies you to come in here and bother my Detectives!?" Brown yelled. Brown's yelling was legendary in the downtown precinct.

"I had some information that might be valuable in the Aiken-Marlowe case." Angelo said. "I was reporting it to the police. That's what citizens do, isn't it?"

"Citizens?! You think you're a citizen? You're a goddamn peeping tom, that's what! Mr. Marlowe's the citizen around here. He brings in money and jobs and good press that this town sorely needs. I won't have you chasing people around digging up skeletons out of their closets for no good goddamn reason. Is that clear!?" Brown shouted.

"It was just some background data, chief." Franks said. "Detective Mancuso just saved us digging it up today is all."

Brown whirled on Franks "Oh, is that so? What, are you taking fuck up lessons now? Let me tell ya, Detective Mancuso is the one to talk to about that!"

"Captain, don't you think you're taking this a little too seriously?" Anderson asked. He had a resigned look on his face. Evidently Franks and Anderson were Brown's favorite targets now that Angelo and Marcus were no longer there.

"Seriously? SERIOUSLY!? You don't think that maybe World War Three is serious, Anderson?!" Brown screeched.

"World War Three?" Franks asked. She was grinning at Angelo.

Angelo rolled his eyes.

"This man and his maniac slacker of a partner invaded the Russian Consulate and shot the hell out of it! They killed five Russian citizens and injured fifteen others including the Russian Consul! We're lucky they didn't nuke Los Angeles!" Brown yelled.

"We thought they had Anya Donovitch in there." Angelo explained. "We thought her life was in danger." It was an old story, and Brown never listened, anyway.

"Hot pursuit doesn't count for RUSSIA!!" Brown thundered. "They could have held her up to the damned window and strangled her in front of your eyes and you still weren't allowed in! I told you so repeatedly before you ever went in there!"

"Well, you don't see the Russian Mafia smuggling drugs into L.A. too much anymore." Angelo said. Some times it seemed as if Brown forgot who were the bad guys and who were the good guys.

"No, but now the Russian Military has a goddamn ICBM targeted on my ass!" Brown yelled.

"What happened to this Anya person?" Franks asked.

"We don't know. She wasn't there. With her gone, our whole case fell apart. That's why Brown was able to get rid of us." Angelo said. "The other times we were able to bring in enough evidence to convince everyone. That time, the witness skipped out and left us holding the bag."

"This time you had to face the consequences of your actions, you mean! Where's Marcus, Angelo. I never did see one of you without the other one. Sometimes I wonder about you two." Brown asked.

"He's out finding himself." Angelo said. Marcus had shacked up with a pretty young girl and was now following her on her quest to find a UFO in the desert. Angelo didn't see any reason to mention this.

"So you come around here to corrupt more of my detectives with your idiotic ways!? No! Absolutely not! Get out!" Brown pointed dramatically at the door.

"You think he's going to corrupt us, Chief?" Franks laughed.

"You think you're so Goddamn smart, Franks, well you're off the case, both of you!" Brown thundered. Anderson threw down his pen in frustration. Getting taken off a case was black mark on his record that would not fade, even after Brown had his inevitable heart attack.

"You think that this fuck up is funny, now you know the punch line! I have the last laugh! This is MY department! Fuck with me and Angelo will have to find you a job on the cattle rustling detail up in cow town, 'cause you won't be working in L.A. anymore!" Brown turned to Angelo. "Get out of here cowboy, or I'll give you a reason to walk funny!" With that he scooped up Angelo's file and stomped back into his office.

-*-

After eating lunch and taking time to calm down, Angelo went down the street to the skyrise that housed the headquarters of the LABN.

"May I help you Sir?" The receptionist asked.

Angelo showed her his ID. "I'm doing a background investigation about the network. Who can I speak to?"

The receptionist looked thoughtful in a pretty, decorative way.

A young oriental man came up to her desk. "Gena, I'm dying, here. At least say you'll do lunch with me." He dropped to the floor. "I'm begging, now. Please."

The receptionist's eyes rolled. "No." She said.

"But I'll be worth billions! Aren't I worth a few minutes of your time?" The young man pleaded.

"Mr. Chee, this is Detective Angelo Mancuso from Vista City." Gena said.

Chee looked up from the floor. "Hi."

"Hi." Angelo said it as if he spoke to prostrate men all the time. Chee looked all of fifteen years old.

"He wanted some background information on the network." Gena said. "Would you speak to him, please?"

"Only if you say you'll have lunch with me." Chee challenged.

"Okay," Angelo said. "You talked me into it."

"Not you, her." Chee pointed at Gena's feet.

"I'm buying." Angelo said.

"Oh. Okay. Are you coming, Gena?" Chee scrambled to his feet.

"Sorry Shane. I'm on duty. You go tell the nice man what he wants to know." Gena said.

"All right. I'll talk to you later, Gena." Chee said. Angelo could almost see the pink hearts of adolescent lust dancing around Chee's head

-*-

La Maison was not one of Angelo's regular hangouts, but he'd been there a couple of times. He associated it with his parents and the older generation of wealthy people in Los Angeles.

Shane Chee's decision to eat there seemed at first like an adolescent prank. Chee asked for his usual table and greeted the matre'd by name. Only the most self consciously rich people took the pains to do that.

Angelo grimaced inwardly. A meal at La Maison would wreck his monthly budget. Again he'd have to turn to his parents for help. He didn't like to do this, but it was an investigation, and the VCPD expense accounts would choke and die at the thought of La Maison, even if they applied.

Outwardly Angelo stayed bland. "What do you do at Los Angeles Business Network?"

Chee stopped wolfing an expensive French dinner roll and glared at Angelo. "You're kidding right?"

Angelo stayed bland. "No, I'm not kidding. Tell me."

Chee rolled his eyes. "I'm the senior systems architect and software designer."

Angelo hid his surprise. He'd would have bet money that Chee worked in the mail room. "Really? You seem awfully young for that."

"Why are you old folks always saying that? The mental faculties are at their height early. I'm not too young, you're just too old." Chee said.

Angelo sighed. He was approaching his thirty seventh birthday and it made him a little sensitive. "Really?" He said.

"Yeah. I'm a savant. A genius. I'm at the peak of my creative abilities. With my work, me and Marlowe are going to be worth billions." Chee bragged.

"What work is that?" Angelo asked.

"Duh! Think I'm stupid or something? You'll find out when everyone else does, the day we release it on the open market." Chee sneered.

"What do you know about GeosNetwork?" Angelo asked.

"What is this deep background?" Chee sneered even more. "Geos and the GeosNetwork is crap pure and simple. Every dork with his daddy's computer and an issue of Popular Science can hack it. MY system is bulletproof."

"You have a system?" Angelo asked.

"Did they actually tell you who it was that you'd be interviewing before they sent you?" Chee gaped.

"Not really. You had it right when you said deep background. That's what I'm asking for." Angelo.

"I get paid $512 dollars an hour. I am way too heavy to teach a technically illiterate hack the basics of the computer industry." Chee said.

"Okay, granted," Angelo said mildly. "Think about it. Could it hurt to choke out some back ground information while you stuff your face on my expense account?" He thought carefully about how to shoot Chee and ditch the body.

Chee turned it over. "True. If Wired wants to buy me lunch while I educate you, then it's their dime. What do you know?"

"Actually, I'm new to the field." Angelo said. "I know next to nothing about the high powered hacker's world."

Chee sighed. "Oh God. All right. I graduated two years ago from UCLA's Computer Science Program. I was snatched up by John Marlowe as soon as I reached the age of consent, because of my natural genius, excellent technical training, and because his network's previous operating system was too lame to live."

"How did Marlowe hear of you?" Angelo asked.

"He's got his ears to the ground in our industry and I hacked his system and told him so." Chee smirked at his own cleverness.

"So he hired you." Angelo said.

"Do you want to try to explain equipment based interlaced digital binary interrupts as opposed to software configurable addressable interrupts?" Chee explained. "No lawyer in his right mind wants to try me. No judge or jury could even understand what it was exactly that I did. Marlowe figured that if he couldn't beat me, then he'd join me. He's a very astute businessman."

"I suppose so." Angelo said. "What was this about your system?"

"My thesis was to create a new operating system for computers. A fully modern system can kick ass all over any system currently in widespread use. That's what we use at LABN." Chee said.

"Is that why Marlowe bought so many new computers?" Angelo asked.

"Yeah. My new operating system is so advanced that state of the art systems are maxed out using it. The old iron we had was too dusty to keep up." Chee said proudly.

"Is your system what's going to make you and Marlowe billionaires?" Angelo asked.

Chee started and then got a crafty look. "Possibly."

"Your system is technically advanced, right?" Angelo asked.

"The best anywhere currently, and I'm working on keeping it cutting edge." Chee boasted. "Nothing can touch it."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't OS/4 considered better technically than Geos?" Angelo probed.

"Yeah. For its day it was a beautiful piece of code. Man, it was elegant. It should have eliminated Geos." Chee said, wistfully.

"I have a friend who swears by CP/M." Angelo said.

"Yeah, that's okay. I mean it's old. The original was written back in the sixties, okay, but it's robust. You have to be either a total idiot or a total genius to crash CP/M." Chee sounded wistful again.

"But every one uses Geos, now." Angelo pointed out.

"Ahhh," Chee dismissed "That was just marketing. Wild Bill Dornan can't code his way out of a paper bag, never could, but he knows more about underhanded business tricks and marketing to the great unwashed than any man alive."

"Underhanded business tricks?" Angelo asked.

"Oh, you know. Scuzzy shit like not giving us the source code for Geos-95. We couldn't write our network interface for it until I personally hacked the code and even then we had to pay a royalty. He has refused to license Geos-95 to certain vendors who prefer our system. He's practically giving away access to GeosNetwork to undercut our business. If LABN were to go under, then he'd ratchet the rates right up into the sky like he did in New York."

"And this is underhanded?" Angelo asked.

"He's giving away product in our market and subsidizing it with the profits from other markets. The whole purpose is to drive us out of business. I looked it up, that's the whole definition of unfair business practices. But Wild Bill also uses his huge profits to subsidize a large crew of very evil lawyers, so there's not much we can do." Chee said.

"You're certain that your new system can succeed where others have failed?" Angelo asked.

"Exactly." Chee said confidently. "People are getting tired of all the problems that go with the Geos system. They're tired of Wild Bill Dornan telling them what to think and what to buy and all the rest of it. As soon as there's a better alternative, they'll flock to our door with checks in their hot little hands."

"Well good luck with it." Angelo said. He didn't know exactly what problems with the Geos system that Chee was referring to. His computer on his desk in Vista City worked fine. "You know, I used to know someone who went to UCLA in the Computer Science department."

"Oh?" Chee failed to see why this should concern him.

"Yeah, It was a little before your time, but maybe you heard of her." Angelo speculated.

"What's her name?" Chee asked.

"Randi Aiken."

"Some newsman. Don't you know she's dead?" Chee asked.

"Yes, I know." Angelo said. He figured that a shallow grave out in the desert would suit the young hacker nicely. In a couple of years there would be nothing left but a desiccated skeleton.

"She was Marlowe's wife. She was pretty. You know that we had some tension, a little bit of attraction there, but nothing ever really came of it." Chee said. "Too bad."

"Did she work at LABN? Is that where she met Marlowe?"

"No." Chee snickered. "He met her at a trade show. She worked for Wild Bill at GeosWorks."

"Oh. That must have been an interesting courtship. Did she work for Marlowe after they were married?" Angelo asked.

"No. She was way past her prime. Thirty five, sheesh. Besides, she wasn't interested in working for a living once she bagged a billionaire, right?" Chee said.

"Right." Angelo growled.

"Gentlemen, hello." Marlowe said.

Angelo turned to find the entrepreneur standing over his shoulder. "Mr. Marlowe."

"Detective Mancuso, how nice that you've taken an interest in my business affairs." Marlowe said acidly.

"Oh, uh, hi Boss!" Shane Chee grinned.

"Shane what have you been telling the man about our business?" Marlowe took a seat at their table.

"He's after some deep background for an article he's writing. Wired or something." Chee said.

"Is that what you told him, Detective?" Marlowe asked.

"Detective?" Chee said confused.

"No, Sir. I never said any such thing." Angelo said.

"What do you mean Detective?" Chee squeaked.

"Show him your ID." Marlowe said.

Angelo shrugged. He could refuse but it wouldn't gain him anything. He fished out his papers and showed them to Chee.

"You're not a reporter at all, you bastard!" Chee snarled.

"I think lunch time is over for you, Shane." Marlowe said.

"Yeah," Chee pushed his chair back. He snickered at Angelo "Bad move, Pig. Kiss your pension good-bye." He walked away chuckling.

Angelo looked at Marlowe. "Kiss my pension good-bye?"

Marlowe shook his head. "Shane's young. He likes to throw his weight around. I'll tell you what, Detective. Just to show that there's nothing being hidden I'll answer your questions, right now."

"Thank you Mr. Marlowe." Angelo said.

"There's a condition, of course." Marlowe added.

"What's that?"

"You answer one of my questions for every one of yours I answer."

"Sounds fair." Angelo admitted.

"Fine. You first." Marlowe gestured Angelo ahead.

"When did you meet Randi?"

"Two years ago at an industry meeting. The Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas. When did you meet her?"

"1983, at UCLA. She helped me set up experiments using the computers. We both got credit." Angelo admitted. "How did you two get together?"

"When I met her, she was approaching burnout. We became close. I offered her a way out of the high pressure executive track. She took me up on it. What happened with your relationship with Randi?"

"She dumped me. Claimed my prospects weren't bright enough for her." Angelo admitted. "How long had she been taking pills?"

"How odd. You didn't tell her who your parents are?" Marlowe asked.

"No. I try to get by on my own." Angelo said. "What about the pills?"

Marlowe sighed. "Yes, well, you know that Wild Bill Dornan runs a real sweatshop up there in Seattle. He put such high expectations on his people that there was no way for a human being to maintain production except with drugs. That's was part of how Randi coped with the demands."

"But you took her away from all that." Angelo prompted.

"Well, yes and no." Marlowe said. "She was free of Wild Bill's slave driver tactics, but our attempts to treat her addiction to the pills were not successful."

"I'm sorry." Angelo said.

"Have you been carrying a torch around for Randi all this time?" Marlowe asked.

Angelo shrugged. "I can't answer that with a yes or a no."

"Well, I'm afraid that you'll have to seek closure on this in your own way. Do you have any evidence that there was foul play involved in Randi's death?" Marlowe asked.

"Nothing concrete." Angelo admitted.

"That's because there is nothing concrete there, Detective. Poor Randi just drove herself off a cliff. I have a hell of a time wrapping my brain around it, myself, but there it is." Marlowe said.

"I am a great fan of the truth. Given half a chance, the facts of this will point out the truth." Angelo said.

"You really value your work don't you?" Marlowe asked.

"Yes, Sir." Angelo said honestly.

"Well, Detective, if I were to sue you for unethical conduct in this matter, what do you think the reaction of your bosses would be?" Marlowe said.

"Hmm. That's hard to speculate about." Angelo said.

"Your status as a Detective is in jeopardy, Angelo. My lawyer is chomping at the bit to get his hooks into you. This latest incident can only incite him further. Even with the best lawyers that your father can buy for you, I don't expect that your career would survive two firings." Marlowe stated. "I'm speaking as a friend of your family now. Don't throw away something you treasure on nothing. It's not worth it."

"What are you trying to say, exactly?" Angelo asked. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he already knew.

"In plain language, Detective, I'm telling you to drop this matter and return to Vista City. There's nothing for you here. If you stay and keep poking your nose into my business, then I'll let my lawyer sue you. Afterwards, you won't even be able to get hired as a dog catcher. Is that clear enough?" Marlowe's eyes were cold. This was business now.

"I'll take it under advisement." Angelo said quietly. He'd been threatened before, but never by such means. Threats of violence could be out thought or out shot. How could you defeat a superior legal team? Angelo paid the tab and left.

"Don't forget, Detective. Out of my business and out of Los Angeles, or I won't be responsible for the consequences." Marlowe said as he left.

-*-

Angelo returned to the Century Hilton. As he walked into his room he met two men there. They were big in the "ex-college-jock" way. One had blond hair that was receding rapidly. The other one was Hispanic with a large handlebar mustache and mean eyes.

"Hello." Angelo said. His gun appeared in his hand. He was too used to finding strangers in his place to trust them. He recognized Mangar and Souza, two of Brown's favorite homicide detectives.

Both Souza and Mangar pulled their guns, too. Angelo could have shot them in the mean time, but he couldn't bring himself to. If they meant to hurt him, they wouldn't have been standing in the room like a couple of target dummies, they would have been hiding in ambush.

"Put that goddamn thing down, Mancuso." Souza, the blond snarled. "You know us."

"That's why I drew it." Angelo drawled.

"You're threatening LAPD officers with a gun. It would be a good shoot." Mangar, the Hispanic man said.

Angelo waved his gun absently more towards Mangar. "For Souza, maybe."

The big blond man put his gun away. "You pissed Captain Brown off but good, Mancuso."

Mangar and Angelo stood facing each other. Angelo didn't feel safe around Mangar. Mangar's eyes burned with resentment.

"Yeah," Angelo commented to Souza. "He and I have a special relationship."

"He's been on the phone all morning to your office in Vista City, trying to raise hell for you back there." Souza said.

Mangar looked at Souza, and then back at Angelo. He said "Put the gun down, or I'll kill you."

Angelo tightened his grip on the gun and brought into a direct aim at Mangar. Mangar started and realized that he was staring down the barrel of Angelo's Glock. Death was just a squeeze away now. Mangar began to sweat and go gray. He raised his gun to point at Angelo's head. "I said put the fucking gun down!"

Angelo was really worried. Mangar might pull the trigger at any second. He didn't mean to push the bully into a corner like that. Now, If Angelo did put the gun down, Mangar might try to beat him. That would prove to Mangar that he was still tougher than anyone. If Angelo kept the gun aimed at Mangar, Mangar would eventually be forced to shoot to prove that Angelo couldn't push him. "What's this guy doing with a badge?" Part of Angelo's brain yelled.

Souza reached out and gently pushed Mangar's arm to the side. "That's enough."

Angelo quickly brought his gun down by his side.

"God damn it, whose side are you on?" Mangar snarled to Souza.

"There'll be another time." Souza said.

Mangar turned away with his face burning red. He holstered his weapon.

Angelo put his gun away. "What can I help you with, today, gentlemen?"

"We're your escort Angelo." Souza said.

"Escort?"

"You're getting the fuck out of Dodge on the noon stage." Mangar said.

Angelo looked at Souza.

"That's correct. Brown told us to escort down to the airport and onto a plane back north."

"Really? Can he do that?" Angelo asked. He knew very well that it was a violation of his civil rights.

"I can." Mangar snarled.

"Don't make any more trouble for yourself than you have to." Souza warned.

Angelo sighed and counted his options. "All right. Let me pack."

-*-

Angelo walked back into the Vista City Police Station the next morning. As he walked through the labyrinthine old building, all hell seemed to be breaking loose. Cops were standing around with confused looks on their faces. Suspects and other people were standing around being irritated. Some in louder tones of voice than others.

Angelo observed quietly. He walked around to the back of the building to the old squad room that was the headquarters for the Special Investigation Squad.

Just down the hallway he spotted the Systems Administrator for the Vista City Police Computer Network. She was a short black lady with a funny face and an irrepressibly happy attitude. She was merrily cursing in her native Swahili tongue.

"Hi Uhura. What's going on?" Angelo asked.

Her name was Uhura Young. Uhura from the old Star Trek television show that her parents enjoyed, and Young from their Mormon religion. Naturally, the woman had an interesting point of view on the world.

"Some miss-guided person hacked our system last night." Uhura said. She pronounced "miss-guided" to rhyme with "Son-of-a-bitch" but Uhura never cursed in English.

"Well, your computer seems to be working okay." Angelo observed the colors and graphics flashing on Uhura's screen.

"Yeah, but mine's the only one, and that's because I never let Wild Bill Dornan hoodwink me." Uhura said.

"What does that mean?" Angelo asked.

"Some one introduced a virus that destroys all Geos based programming. It even got my Geos emulators. I run my system on CP/M, and that saved it, but every other computer in the station is down today." Uhura said.

"Any clues about who might have done it?" Angelo asked.

"I don't know, but it was a brilliant piece of coding. I'll give the miss-guided soul that." Uhura bent back to her task. "I'm sorry Angelo, but I have some heavy work to do here, and explaining it step by step slows me down by a factor of ten."

"Excuse me. I'll just be in my office, painting on the cave walls." Angelo said.

"Save me a space. We're not an effective police force today without the computers." Uhura said.

-*-

Angelo walked into the old squad room and took his seat at his desk. An old metal board had been unearthed. Metal pegs had the names of the SIS officers in three columns. There were people off duty, people in the station, and people on patrol. Next to that was a marker board with every one's cell-phone number scrawled on it. Angelo shook his head ruefully. The VCPD was getting a lesson in how important their computers were today. It seemed as though they weren't enjoying it.

Scott Ashby walked out of his office with his cell phone glued to his ear. "No, I don't really need regular reports, Terry...No. That's right. Just if you need back-up or advice. Yes I know. Well, I trust your judgment. Ha ha, well Angelo's back, so I've got to go. Right. Over and out."

Scott walked up to Angelo's desk. "Good morning, Angelo."

"Good morning, Captain."

"Well. where to start? I may have to put you on uniformed patrol today. The dispatch office was crippled when the computers went down, so they're putting everyone they can out on the street." Scott said.

Angelo sighed and nodded. He'd spent more time in uniform in Vista City than he had since his days at the Academy. Nevertheless, that was part of the job. They were pick up officers and they had to try to be able to do any job that came up. Sometimes pulling extra patrols was the duty of the day.

"First, though, let's talk about your little adventure in L.A." Scott said. His wry tone let Angelo know that there had been some problems.

"Uh..." Angelo said. "My friend's death seemed to have some loose ends. I started pulling and..."

"First we got a call from Ira Johnson, an attorney. He called to check your credentials and than complained of possible unlawful activity and warned us that a lawsuit might follow. That made Moody happy." Scott said.

"I've met him." Angelo said. "He'd like to sue us into the ground."

"Well, I don't want to soak the department for three or four hundred thousand dollars, so let's see if we can avoid the whole lawsuit thing." Scott said good naturedly.

"Are you telling me to abandon my investigation?" Angelo asked. He'd never heard that from Scott, but he was expecting it at any time. Detectives pursued cases, captains killed them, that was the way it worked.

"I'm not quite finished, yet. Later, I got a series of calls from Captain Brown of the LAPD." Scott said. His eyes were bright. "He was highly offended at your presence. He seemed to think that we had plenty to do here giving cows tickets and chasing rustlers."

"I was off duty, Captain. I was operating on my own recognizance." Angelo said.

"Yes, that's why you used your badge to get into the morgue and into the squad room down there." Scott said.

Angelo sighed. He was caught there.

"Well, I really can't say that I haven't done the same thing from time to time, but now I have an appreciation for the consequences of that. That put our name and our reputation behind you, even though we might not have approved of it, Angelo. You committed us in LAPD turf. Believe me, the LAPD is touchy about turf. Now we have no choice but to either cut you loose, or to take the plunge with you. Remember that the next time you flash that badge." Scott said.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'll let it go." Angelo said. It was new perspective for him, too. There were people who worked at the SIS who simply wouldn't be cops anywhere else. Rebecca Stevens had an artificial arm. She wouldn't be accepted anywhere. Sonja Traveler wandered in out of the blue. A lot of her background was hard or impossible to check. Angelo knew this because he tried to check it. Somehow they'd let her stay in SIS, before she decided to move on. Angelo and Marcus should not have stayed cops after the disaster at the Russian Consulate, but thanks to the VCPD, they did.

"Now, I didn't say that." Scott said. "Tell me what you found."

Angelo looked at Scott sharply "I don't understand. Weren't you just saying that I had to be careful with where I took this?"

"True, but on the other side of that there's finding out the truth. What else are we in business for?" Scott said. "I didn't say we weren't going to support you, I was just asking you to try and make certain what you were doing, first. Now, tell me what you found."

Angelo reported what he found to Scott. It took a little bit.

"Hmmm...There's a lot of computer stuff in there." Scott said.

"I don't know that much about it, but it seems as though the computer industry is a large component of the situation." Angelo said.

"Well then, we'll call in our computer expert." Scott said.

-*-

Uhura Young looked at the dead screen of Angelo's computer thoughtfully. "Shane Chee was the big thing when he graduated. I'd wondered what was happening with him."

"How might this relate to Randi Aiken-Marlowe's murder?" Alejandro Moody asked. He was the Assistant Chief of Police and responsible for the day-to-day operations of the VCPD.

"I don't know. Didn't you say that she worked for GeosWorks?" Uhura said.

"Yes." Angelo said.

"Well, once upon a time, when we wanted to find out what one company was doing, we'd go and ask their competition." Uhura said. "Why not take advantage of all the corporate espionage?"

"Then I'll go have a talk with GeosWorks and see what they have to say." Angelo said.

"Wait for me. I've got to get some things together and then I'm ready." Uhura said.

Scott looked at her. "Why are you going?"

"Technical support. I can't really fix this mess. I'd have to rewrite certain very important pieces of Geos. Then you'd have the "Uhura Young Operating System", and there's no guarantee that anything else written for Geos would work with it." Uhura explained. "We'll have to call in Wild Bill's big guns."

"I guess I'll have to authorize it, then." Moody said. "Angelo. Make sure you have your ducks in a row before you take on John Marlowe again. If the Chief hears a whisper of a big money lawsuit, he'll chuck you overboard so fast your head will spin. If we have some facts to back it up with, then we might be able to turn him around on it, but I don't want to have to do it that way."

"Yes, Sir." Angelo said.

"If Angelo gets thrown to the wolves, I'll have to quit on you, Alejandro." Scott said quietly. "I might have to take some of the SIS people with me."

"Scott, if we eat a big, messy lawsuit, I don't see where there's going to be an SIS afterwards." Alejandro said. "You might find me going with you."

"All for one and one for all!" cheered Uhura.

-*-

On the plane up to Seattle, Angelo scratched an itch that bothered him. "Uhura, you said that you used to find out what was going on in the Computer industry."

"Yes, we did." She muttered. She had her lap top open and was fighting it out with the destructive anti-Geos virus.

"Where did you used to work?"

"The Government."

"What part of the Government keeps tabs on the nation's computer industry?" Angelo asked.

Uhura looked up. "There is No Such Agency." She grinned.

"Oh. So what are doing in Vista City?" Angelo asked, confused.

"Can you say 'budget cut'? I knew that you could." Uhura said.

"Sorry to hear it." Angelo said.

"I'm not. You people are much more fun. Now hush, I'm working." Uhura stuck her nose back into her computer.

-*-

They arrived in Seattle. It was a sunny day, and the smell of the ocean mixed with the subconscious bustle of a busy port town. They rented a car and drove out to the distant suburbs of the city. That far away from the ocean, the area looked like a soft green forest.

The GeosWorks complex was commonly referred to as a "Campus" and Angelo found it an apt description. They walked past an on going frisbee game. The participants weren't skilled, but they seemed to be having a lot of fun.

Inside the main entrance they spoke with a very polite and friendly seeming receptionist. After listening to Uhura's description of the problem, she called for a senior manager.

-*-

George Cunningham was a round man, balding with a friendly face that showed what sort of stress he lived with. Cunningham and Uhura exchanged a spate of technical jargon. Uhura had copies of the corrupted programs with her.

"Okay." Cunningham said at length. "I've been sort of afraid of this kind of thing. Let me set up an isolated lab computer and we'll run some tests."

They left Cunningham's office and wandered deeper into the large office building. While they walked, Angelo asked Cunningham "Did you know Randi Aiken-Marlowe?"

Cunningham started. "Why, yes I did. That was before she was Mrs. Marlowe, of course. Why?"

"I used to know her, myself. I've heard that she was under a lot of stress here." Angelo said.

"Well, yeah. We all are. The industry is growing and changing at a rate that has never been seen in the world before. We're on the edge of the human performance envelope, here." Cunningham said. "How did you know Randi?"

"I met her in school at UCLA." Angelo admitted.

"You're that Angelo?" Cunningham said. "Small world."

"She mentioned me?" Angelo was taken aback.

"Only once. We had a big party after Geos 3.16 was released. It was a big push and we were all wiped out after wards. We got drunk and maudlin together. She said that she didn't realize what she had in the palm of her hand and so she threw it away. She was referring to you." Cunningham said..

"Is that what this is all about Angelo? A lost love?" Uhura asked. "How sweet. I'm sorry it worked out that way."

"Well, I wouldn't count on that." Cunningham said. "She did mention that she didn't find out until later that his parents were filthy rich. I don't know what bugged her, losing at love or losing a shot at a fortune."

"At least love was in there, somewhere." Angelo griped. His eyes felt itchy.

"Aw, Angelo." Uhura said.

"Did Randi have a problem with the pills that she took?" Angelo asked.

Cunningham shot Angelo a sharp look. "Randi never took any pills. Who told you that?"

"I heard that Bill Dornan demands such high productivity that drugs are the only way to keep up." Angelo challenged.

"No. It's true that Wild Bill likes a high pressure shop, here, but drugs? It's would be severely out of character for our corporate culture." Cunningham walked through a lobby where there was a hot dog cart serving delicious smelling sausages and hot dogs. Next to it there was a bulky cola machine. Cunningham walked up to the cola machine and slapped at a button. The machine dispensed a cola to him.

"Food and caffeine laden drinks are free. The office furniture was chosen specifically for long term comfort. There are segregated men's and women's showers on the first floor. There have been people whose rents have lapsed because they stayed here so long. We all came from computer science departments. Drug use would be seen as damaging the only thing that gives you status here, your brain. We have the lowest drug and alcohol abuse rates of any industry. I knew Randi Aiken. She didn't take anything except industrial strength caffeine and sugar."

"Hmmm." Angelo said.

-*-

The lab consisted of several computers of different makes, set up on tables in a big room.

A short, thin man met Cunningham with black spiky hair that stood up in all directions. "What have you got for me, George?"

"This lady says she has a virus that defeated our product." Cunningham said.

"Uh huh, and were you running the virus screen?" The man asked

Uhura gave him a derisive look and they launched into another spate of technical jargon. To Angelo it had the definite sound of a duel in progress. Eventually the spiky haired man grinned. "That sounds like a challenge."

"Let's boot it up and see what happens." Uhura suggested.

"Right, We'll use number five."

They went to a computer sitting by itself on a table. Uhura popped her data disk into the computer and then hit the reset button. The computer reset itself and tried to boot from Uhura's corrupted disk. Soon it announced that there was no bootable disk present. Uhura took her disk out of the drive. "It's as dead as a door nail, now."

The Spiky haired virus expert snorted and turned the computer off. Then he turned it back on. The computer refused to start up. Then he took a protected disk from his supplies and repeated the process. The computer refused to start up. Shaking his head grimly, the spiky haired expert tried the disk in another computer, only to kill that one.

"Okay." He said. "Now we will introduce the virus to The Beast."

"The Beast?" Uhura sounded amused.

"The Beast is the fastest PC available running the latest version of our software with every virus protection I can find. A couple of them I had to write myself." He said proudly.

"And The Beast will survive this thing?" Uhura asked.

"It will survive and conquer. Once the virus is no longer running, we can take it apart and find out how it killed lesser machines."

"Good luck." Uhura said.

With a confident smirk the man put the contaminated disk into a huge black machine running near the front of the room. The machine considered the disk thoughtfully. Then it ran for a while, chewing things over. Then with a plaintive beep it put a message up on its screen. "Warning! Data Disk Severely Corrupted!" Then The Beast died. No amount of electronic resuscitation could revive it.

"Houston, we have a problem." The Spiky haired man said.

"I told you so." Uhura said sweetly.

-*-

"All right. What's the nature of this here virus?" Wild Bill Dornan was a big man. He was about as tall as Angelo but weighed half again as much. He seemed to over ride and dominate every room that he entered. He was wearing a pastel blue suit cut in a "western" style, cowboy boots and an ornate ten-gallon hat. His face and hands shined with the kind of care that half a billion dollars can buy.

"This is not good, Bill, not good at all." Spiky Hair said. "How long to whip up a fix and release it on the net?" Wild Bill demanded.

"This is more complicated than that, Bill." Spiky Hair

"How? Don't talk down to me God Damn it! I'm the guy that coded Pac-Man for the Atari PC so I think I know a little whereof I speak!" Bill thundered.

"This virus attacks the basic kernel of our system. The only way to defend it is to rewrite the kernel completely." Spiky Hair reported.

"God Damn it to hell in a flower basket, man! That kernel is the core of the damned program! Without that, Geos ain't Geos anymore!" Bill hollered.

"Yes, Sir." Spiky Hair said. "You got it."

"Tarnation! How widely spread is this thing!" Bill yelled. Angelo wondered if he ever spoke quietly.

"Not too far. It's only attacked our system." Uhura said.

"Who in tarnation are you?" Bill demanded.

"Uhura Young, Ph.D. in Computer science, Brigham Young University, 1989." Uhura introduced.

"And it's your system that's been hit with this monster?" Bill said.

"Yes, Sir. The Vista City Police Department computer network is history." Uhura said.

"Can we reinstall Geos and get these people back on line?"

"No, Sir. The only way I can even access the computers here anymore is with OS/4." Spiky Hair admitted.

"Do my ears deceive me!? Is one of my Chief Researchers using an Enemy Product in MY lab!?!"

"Now, he told you it was bad, Bill." George Cunningham said.

"What in the Sam Hill are you doing here, George!? Is this more of that conspiracy-theory crap you were trying to sell me last month?" Dornan yelled.

"Well it doesn't look like crap, now, does it Bill? If I took that contaminated disk and popped it into my desk station, the whole network would crash! Tell me I'm blowing smoke now!" George yelled.

"Jesus Christ, what's the spread rate on this thing?" Wild Bill looked wild in a desperate sort of way, now.

"Zero." Spiky Hair reported. "The computers die before the infection can spread."

"Well that's something, anyways. God Bless stupid hackers."

"Don't count your chickens, yet, Wild Bill." Uhura said.

"What's that mean?" Wild Bill had an idea what was coming and didn't want to hear it.

"I could modify this thing to lie dormant for a few days, and pass itself on to every system that ours had contact with. When it finally went off, it'd take down half the net." Uhura said.

"Did you write this thing? Is that your game? Are you tryin' to shake me down, young lady!?" Wild Bill roared.

"Don't be dumb. Would I be standing here talking to you if I did this?" Uhura said.

"I won't be spoken to like that on my own spread, little lady!" Wild Bill shouted.

"Could Shane Chee have written this?" Angelo asked George Cunningham.

Cunningham looked at Angelo pointedly. "Possibly. Randi forwarded some code to me that looked a little like this. She said that something smelled funny. She wanted me to hold her evidence until she could put together a better case."

"Do you know how she died?" Angelo asked him.

"The report on the net said she went off the road while under the influence of drugs." George said.

"Do you think she found what she was looking for?" Angelo asked.

"And then had an accident?" George shook his head grimly. "It sounds like a bad conspiracy theory. Isn't paranoia a symptom of drug abuse?"

At that point the shouting match between Uhura Young and Wild Bill Dornan reached a crescendo. Wild Bill took off his coat and struck a bad boxing pose, all the while demanding a posse to remove these people from his "spread."

Uhura was cursing vilely in Swahili, sounding like a spitting cat.

"Mr. Dornan, you have a big problem. I think that Shane Chee and John Marlowe are responsible. If you don't take quick action, you and your organization might be severely damaged." Angelo warned the magnate.

"Aw to hell with you and your dopey conspiracy! Just get yourself and your dumbshit dummied up virus out of my sight before I call some real cops in here to bust your ass!!" Wild Bill shouted.

"But, Bill! This thing could murder us in the market place!" Spiky Hair cried.

"You watch your mouth around me punk, or you'll be back out on the street selling hacked Nintendo cartridges before you know what hit you! Now I've said my piece, get 'em the hell out!" He rounded on Angelo and Uhura "And thanks for the warnin'! If you try to palm that damned fake virus off on the net, me and my lawyers'll be around and you'll both wind up on the streets, I make sure of it!" With that he turned and stomped out of the lab.

After a few brief seconds, George said "Come on, I think you'd better go now."

Spiky Hair turned to his staff stunned. "He didn't believe it! He didn't even believe it!"

-*-

Back in Vista City, Angelo was on the phone with Jim Anderson.

"And that's how it breaks down." Angelo said.

"Do you know how that sounds, Detective?" Anderson said.

"Think about it. Both Dornan and Marlowe are filthy rich. How did they get that way? By controlling access to computers and the net. That was in a competitive environment with other alternatives. The modern world is a water dictatorship with computers and net access replacing water. Anyone with sole control of access to information can make ten times as much money as Dornan or Marlowe. Large incalculable piles of money are a solid motive for murder and extreme hacker vandalism." Angelo explained.

"There's just not enough hard evidence to justify the investigation, even if Franks and I were still on it." Anderson said. "You know how bullet proof Marlowe is."

"Who's on the case now? Maybe I can convince them." Angelo wheedled.

"Mangar and Souza." Anderson said grimly.

"Ugh." Angelo said.

"Yep. They've got it buttoned up as an accidental. They won't want to hear anything more complex." Anderson said.

"If this thing goes through, Marlowe will be beyond bullet proof. He'll have gotten away with murder." Angelo said.

I'll see what I can do," Anderson said, "but don't get your hopes up.

"Thanks." Angelo said. He hung up the phone.

-*-

"Why did Marlowe kill Randi?" Angelo mused.

"You don't even know for certain that he did." Uhura said.

"True, but to assume that leaves nothing for us to do. Work with me here." Angelo said. "Marlowe killed Randi to control knowledge she had."

"Knowledge of the virus and Marlowe's plan, right?" Uhura said.

"Right. What if we tell Marlowe that Randi passed the data on to me?" Angelo asked.

"Then either he kills you, or sues you until you wish you were dead." Uhura said.

"Well, if he tries to kill me, then at least we know we're onto something." Angelo said.

"Hey, hey, hey! What's this we stuff, paleface?" Uhura demanded.

Angelo just looked at her. Would she really let someone get away with murder and vandalizing most of the computers in the world for his own personal gain? He didn't think so.

After a few seconds Uhura gave up with her hands tossed in the air, "All right! All right! What do we do? I won't forget this Mancuso!"

-*-

"What do you want, Detective?" Marlowe's voice was calm and reasonable sounding.

"Well, I wanted to let you know that Randi had a safe deposit box in Seattle." Angelo said. "She left some things in there that I think bear discussion."

"What's there to discuss?" Marlowe said.

"Well, let's try Shane Chee's virus, for starters." Angelo said.

"Mr. Chee no longer programs viruses. I pay him to protect my systems, not destroy them." Marlowe huffed.

"Well, that's interesting, because this virus only attacks Geos based systems. It's very clever."

Again Detective, What do you want?" Marlowe's voice was thin.

"I want to speak with you in private, Sir." Angelo pushed.

"Hmmm." Marlowe named a manufacturing plant in Torrance. "Be there at midnight, come alone. We'll talk." Marlowe hung up.

-*-

On a deserted street in Torrance, Uhura young sat waiting. Uhura had a camcorder and a shogun microphone trained on Angelo, who sat in his car in the middle of a deserted parking lot. They had been waiting for an hour.

"This might be them," Uhura said to herself A black car slid past and kept going. "Or not."

They waited for another hour. Then Angelo waved her off and they began to drive back to the Century Hilton.

-*-

On the way back to the hotel an LAPD Patrol car popped it's pursuit lights and pulled Uhura over.

"May I see your license and proof of insurance?" The LAPD patrolman asked. Uhura dug out her papers and assured herself they were all in good order before handing them to the patrolman.

The patrolman took the papers and walked forward to where Angelo was stopped. "Are you with this person?" He asked, pointing back towards Uhura's car.

Angelo put on his best stupid look. "No. I thought you were pulling me over, Officer. Hey. if it's them that you pulled over can I go?"

The patrolman considered it, briefly. The book said focus on one thing at a time. Don't let yourself get distracted during a traffic stop. "Yes, Sir. You're free to go. Have a nice night."

Angelo pulled away from the scene.

-*-

"That's interesting. Why would a cop from some podunk town up north be staking out a manufacturing plant in Torrance?" One patrolman asked. The anonymous warning was odd enough, but it was accurate.

"New message. Downtown wants us to bring her in." His partner read.

The patrolman blew out a breath. "Oh, this is going to be a fur ball before we get done."

They arrested Uhura and took her straight to the downtown headquarters.

-*-

Angelo got off his cell phone with Moody as he arrived at the Century Hilton. Things were looking bad. Now Moody had to get legal representation for Uhura. There was no way this was going to stay out of sight of the elected chief of the VCPD. His political capital would be harmed by the scandal, and he'd take it out on Moody and the SIS. Angelo sighed. Maybe being a civilian detective wouldn't be that bad.

Angelo walked into his room and face first into a gun.

"Angelo Mancuso?" A quiet voice asked.

"Um... who are you?" Angelo's hands were frozen at his side. Even the slightest move could get him shot.

"That's not your concern right now, Detective. Your concern is to do everything we say the moment we say it, calmly." The calm man spoke with quiet authority. He was short and bland looking. His business suit came off the rack and was generic. There was nothing to mark the man apart from the millions of yuppie scum businessmen who roamed L.A..

Angelo's legs began to shake. His guts felt like jello. He took a deep breath.

"Don't make me do anything rash, Detective. Neither one of us would enjoy that." The small man moved forwards. Angelo realized that a blandly handsome woman cut from the same yuppie mold was covering him. Her gun was a generic 9mm automatic and it never wavered. The man patted him down and came up with Angelo's weapon, his cell-phone and the microphone that radioed Angelo's conversations to a recording device in Uhura's car.

"Help." Angelo said at the mike.

The man's gun twitched up under Angelo's nose. "None of that Detective. Besides, your partner still hasn't arrived."

Angelo sighed and raised his hands.

The man finished patting Angelo down. He was very thorough and didn't miss anything. Angelo's back-up weapons and everything of possible use was taken away. The man and woman were both wearing nylon gloves. They were cheap gloves designed to mimic leather driving gloves. The cheap suits and the cheap gloves were intended to be burned after the hit. That and a good scrub down afterward would destroy most of the forensic evidence of Angelo's death. In cases like these. evidence was not the strong suit. The people involved were the key. Crack them and you crack the case. If no one cracks, then no one pays for the murder.

Angelo's brain had split again into two parts. The detached, clinic part of his brain was cataloging facts. These were professional hit people and he'd stumbled into their trap like a damned amateur. The emotional part of Angelo's brain, the part that really felt like him alternated between desperate hope and despair. Maybe something would break right. He had to stay alert and be prepared to take advantage of anything. There probably wouldn't be anything. These people were good at what they did.

After making sure that Angelo was disarmed and not transmitting, they put his personal possessions in a cheap briefcase and ushered him outside. Angelo knew that he could make enough of a scene to draw attention. Then they'd shoot him and try to slip away. They'd probably succeed, too. It's hard to catch people right off the crime scene. You had to run them down and out think them. Angelo could exchange his life for severe inconvenience on the part of his captors. It didn't look like a good bargain.

They walked though the lobby quickly and yet blandly. More business people on the way to a meeting in some office somewhere. No one gave them a second glance. Out into the garage. An older generic BMW waited for them. It sounded bad. Probably recovered from a wrecking yard and given just enough of a work over to make it run one last time. It only had to look good enough to escape notice. Unfortunately for Angelo, L.A. was lousy with aging German sport sedans. No one noticed. They got in, the woman driving, Angelo in the front passenger seat, and the man covering from the rear seat. They drove out of the hotel and towards the freeway.

-*-

"Where's Angelo?" Captain Brown shouted.

"Don't yell at me. Where's my lawyer?" Uhura shot back.

"I don't even know if you're charged with anything yet. Just tell me where that idiot Angelo is!" Brown tried to restrain himself.

"Why should I tell you?" Uhura asked. If Angelo could trust this man he wouldn't have needed her for back up in L.A.

"Because I'm the cop around here! Investigating crimes is my job! That's why!"

"Has there been a crime committed?" Uhura asked sweetly.

"I'm not stupid, I can read a post mortem report as well as anyone. Just tell me what you and Angelo were doing here before it gets ugly!" Brown returned to yelling. He could smell a big lawsuit and a ruined murder case circling him like a buzzard.

"I don't know. The patrolmen let him go." Uhura admitted.

"Damn!" Brown cursed. He stomped out of the interrogation room. "Get me Souza and Mangar!"

The door shut. "Hey, wait!" Uhura yelled. it was too late. the interrogation room was locked from the outside.

A few minutes later, a tall man with sandy brown hair and a blond woman with a dancer's figure came in.

"Um, Ms. Young? I'm Detective Anderson, and this is Detective Franks." The man introduced.

"Pleased to meet you." Uhura said automatically.

"Is your first name Uhura?" Franks asked.

"Yes," Uhura said tiredly. "Like in Star Trek. My parents are Trekkies."

"Interesting." Franks said.

"You have a badge from the Vista City Police Department. Is that right?" Anderson asked.

"Yes. I'm with them." Uhura said.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you." Anderson said. "You couldn't make the height and weight requirements to be an Officer."

Uhura sighed. "Technically the badge is a courtesy. I needed it to examine computer evidence on the crime scene."

"Computer evidence?" Franks asked.

"I'm an expert in the field. I run the Vista City Police system and I also examine left over Computer records at crime scenes." Uhura said.

"What got you involved in this case?" Anderson asked. "Angelo couldn't find anyone else willing to back him up?"

"We suspect that Marlowe and Chee destroyed our system." Uhura admitted.

"Destroyed? What does that mean?" Anderson said.

Uhura told him about the anti-Geos virus that invaded the VCPD system.

"Hmp. There's vandalism." Franks said.

"Is there any concrete evidence that it was Marlowe and Chee?" Anderson asked.

"None. There's some circumstantial evidence, but..." Uhura shrugged.

"Would Judge James grant us a search warrant based on that?" Anderson asked Franks.

"Let's talk to him and see." Franks said. "It's only two in the morning."

-*-

The ride out into the desert took two and a half hours. Angelo said nothing. He considered trying to grab for the wheel of the old Beamer and swerving them off the road. It would get him shot, and then crashed, and possibly shot again if the two hit people survived the crash. It would take a serious accident at the speed they were going to accomplish the destruction necessary. Angelo tabled the idea.

He considered bailing out, but the car was moving an about sixty miles an hour. Angelo could look forward to several broken bones and possible death bailing out of the car at that speed. Then he'd be in no shape to resist when they backed over him and drove away. Another idea tabled. That one might work if there was a patrol car around, but the night was devoid of them.

They pulled off the highway halfway to Palm Springs. The high desert air was crisp and a little cool in the night. Angelo was preparing to run for it when he was escorted out of the car. There was a black SUV there. These vehicles were so generic that Angelo couldn't tell which make it was. John Marlowe and Shane Chee got out of the SUV and walked forwards to meet them.

"Angelo." Marlowe said. "You finally have my undivided attention. What did Randi leave for you in her safe deposit box?"

"She left me a complete copy of Shane's virus." Angelo said. "And enough notes to reconstruct your plan."

"Reconstruct it on what?" Chee smirked.

"Uh huh, and what did you do with this evidence?" Marlowe asked.

"It's safe." Angelo breezed. He sobered. "I guess that's what Randi thought, too, isn't it?"

Marlowe shook his head. "Soon that won't matter to you. There's billions of dollars at stake and we're too close to launch to let you or anyone derail it."

"I guess that means job security for you two, huh?" Angelo said to the bland woman. She looked back with cold eyes. She probably didn't even hear what Angelo said. He was just meat.

"I'll make you a deal, Angelo. Possibly your last one." Marlowe said. "Turn Randi's disks and all evidence over to me and walk away. In return I'll let you live."

Angelo looked Marlowe in the face. He was signing his death warrant and he knew it, but he couldn't let it go. "Someone has to pay for Randi's death."

"Oh, what the hell does it matter now?" Marlowe barked. "Buy a clue. She dumped you fifteen years ago. What's she going to do now, take you back Angelo? Say 'I'm proud of you'? She wanted to drown in money but couldn't handle getting her hands dirty to get it. Is that who you're going to die for, really? Is that what your life's worth?"

Angelo shook his head. "It's not that. It's the principle of the thing."

"Your principles are not a survival trait, Dumb-tective." Chee sneered.

Marlowe's cell phone rang. He dug into his pocket and flipped it out. "Yes?... What? Slow down... My God!... Keep them out, I don't care what it takes!" He slammed the phone shut. "Well Angelo, part of your plan worked anyway. They just served the search warrant at LABN."

"Uh oh." Chee said.

Marlowe was already on the phone to his lawyer. "Ira! Yes I know what time it is. The police just served a search warrant at LABN. Get down there and stop them. I don't care how. I'm on my way. Yes, thank you, Good-bye."

"It's all over." Angelo said "Give up now, and don't make this any worse on yourself than it has to be."

A motor revved out on the high way. It was the only sound for miles.

Marlowe chuckled. "Nice try." He raised his head to speak to the two hit people. Headlights caught him in their high beam. Sirens on a police car blared. "Hold it right there!" an amplified voice yelled.

The two assassins calmly surveyed the situation. There was only the noise from one car. These people had no back up. They calmly leveled their guns at the patrol car and started shooting.

Marlowe and Chee bolted for the SUV.

Angelo dove into the male assassin and began to wrestle with him. The dirt and gravel of the access road were surprisingly hard and cold. Sand poured into Angelo's collar as he fought the assassin.

The woman faded into the sagebrush, placing careful shots into the police car. Wild gunfire returned from it. Angelo could hear a male voice screaming from inside the car.

The assassin got good leverage and pinned Angelo. Then he wrestled his gun half free. Angelo was forced to choose between dignity and life. He bit the assassin in the crotch as hard as he could.

"Eeeeee!" The man screamed in pain. His eyes bugged out. Angelo reversed the hold on the gun and shot him through the head. The assassin spasmed and died instantly.

Angelo scrambled out from under the dead body to see the SUV bouncing down the access road away from the scene of the gunfight. He retreated to the police car.

Mangar was in the bushes off the passenger side of the car. He was not shooting any more, and neither was the female assassin. Angelo crept around to the drivers side door. Only a single half shattered light shone from the top of the car. Angelo blanched at the accuracy of the shooting from a handgun. Head lights, spotlights and pursuit flashers were all gone.

A single shot impacted not far from Angelo's head. He ducked further. Mangar winged a shot into the dark near the location of the shot.

"Who in the fuck is that?" Mangar hissed.

"Don't know." Angelo said. He leaned into the car to check Souza. He was slumped down in the seat bleeding fiercely from a wound in his chest. Angelo knew that Souza was in trouble. "We've got to get him out of here."

"Right. You drive, I'll cover." Mangar said.

Angelo unbuckled Souza's seat belt and pushed him over in the car. That earned another well placed shot the windshield.

Mangar returned three shots. "Got any more ammo?"

"No, check him." Angelo slid into the driver's seat and turned the motor over. It rattled, but ran.

Mangar dug out Souza's clips. He sat in the passenger side and fired into the darkness in carefully timed increments. Angelo pulled the car back down the access road to the highway.

Angelo noticed that the driver's seat of the police car was soaked through with Souza's blood when it soaked through the seat of his pants. Angelo picked up the radio and began to call for help.

They slid down the road slowly for a while. Angelo didn't want to fight the female assassin for her exit. Saving Souza was more important.

After a few minutes, Mangar calmed down enough to get the shakes. He was holding Souza propped up against him. Angelo didn't comment. After you were partnered with a guy for a while you tended to get attached. The homophobic police profession didn't deal well with close platonic friendships, and so the custom was to ignore it and act as though nothing happened.

"Does that kind of shit happen to you often?" Mangar asked Angelo.

"That depends on what you mean by 'often'." Angelo said. He was shaking, too.

-*-

Some evidence of the shoot out was discovered. Spent rounds were laying on the ground were the automatic pistols ejected them. The rattling Beamer, the male assassin's body and most other clues were gone.

A warrant was issued for Marlowe and Chee. Uhura, Anderson and Franks discovered the virus and notes for the plot on Shane Chee's computer, but there was little they could do with it. There was a question whether owning or writing destructive computer programs was illegal or merely using them. They found no way to prove that Shane Chee was responsible for introducing the code into the VCPD computer network.

Many of the LABN computers and networks were impounded as evidence. As soon as word of the seizure leaked out, LABN was doomed. Creditors demanded repayment of debts that the company could not pay. Marlowe did not reappear.

Chee had several witnesses that he was at an all night meeting of some hacker's club or other. Angelo had no evidence to bring charges against him with. The young man was off the hook.

-*-

The desert air baked Marlowe. A dry dusty feeling invaded his soul. He was in touch with Johnson across the border, but the relationship was strained. Johnson kept urging Marlowe to return to the North and clear the matter up. Marlowe's credit cards and bankcards stopped working. Johnson told him of the dissolution of LABN. Marlowe's home and possessions were seized and sold to hungry creditors.

The late after noon sun cut through the adobe arches, and reflected off the stucco surfaces. Marlowe would have sworn that places like these were mythical, but they were there, hidden in the deserts and out of the way places in northern Mexico. His black SUV looked out of place and beat up. It was tough, but never intended for rough country like the desert.

Marlowe sipped a bitter, nasty tasting beer and surveyed his options. He was a wanted man on the run in Mexico. Only the clothes on his back and his vehicle to his name. He'd been close to the top of the world. So many dollars that he didn't even need to count them and now it was all gone.

He fingered a wad of Mexican pesos in his pocket. That was his watch and his cell phone, sold to some urchin on the street somewhere for enough gas money to keep moving. It was drying up fast, and Marlowe had no ideas about what to do when it was gone.

Marlowe sipped his beer. Half an hour later, a thumping sound wafted through the air. Helicopter. Marlowe almost ignored the sound. Helicopters were ubiquitous in L.A. However, the people of the village were reacting. They didn't see too many helicopters around here. Shivers ran up and down Marlowe's spine.

He got up and looked out of the archway. An old military style jeep roared up. Just like "Rat Patrol" there was a fifty caliber machine gun mounted on the back, and three men in olive drab uniforms and green metal pot helmets. A figure ran out to meet them. A few words were exchanged. The Helicopter was getting closer, now.

The figure pointed at the cantina where Marlowe watched impassively.

The soldiers started strutting towards the cantina.

Marlowe drew out a silvery automatic pistol. It was German, expensive and deadly. People in the Cantina began to react to a gringo with a gun and soldiers approaching. They screamed and dove for cover. Marlowe knew how it would end. He discovered he'd really rather not bother.

He put the gun in his mouth. A gust from the approaching helicopter blew gritty sand into his eyes. Marlowe pulled the trigger.

-*-

"Thank you for choosing Geos-2000!" Angelo's computer chirped. Angelo was installing the latest version of the operating system.

He looked at the back of the box that held the software disk. There was a picture of Wild Bill Dornan, George Cunningham and Shane Chee, the team responsible for the newest standard in computer software, Geos-2000.

"What is your destination, today?" Angelo's computer chirped with barely restrained optimism.

Angelo turned off the computer and went outside.

-End-