Storiesonline.net ------- The Hundred Year Plan by Lazlong Copyright© 2003 by Lazlong ------- Description: Did you ever wonder just how pissed off the Japanese got that we dropped the A-bombs on them during World War II? This is the story of an American fighting against a Japanese group, bent on revenge. Codes: MF slow ScFi rom cons ------- ------- Chapter 1 1945 The Enola Gay made military history in the early morning of August 6, 1945. The bombardier dropped the first atomic bomb used in war and released the most destructive force ever known on earth. By the end of the year between 130,000 and 150,000 people in Hiroshima died because of the bomb. ------- Hirano Satoshi was in his office on the morning of the tragedy. A man of inflexible routine, he always arrived early. He was proud of his position as the senior public official in the water department. He liked to greet each of his employees as they came in with a personal comment or question. Satoshi was large for a Japanese, and followed the ways of the ancient discipline of Jojutsu, which kept him in excellent physical condition. It was a morning like every other to Satoshi. He watched as those around him began their daily routine. Sitting down at his desk, the room suddenly lit up like a thousand flash bulbs going off at once. The air was stifling hot, it was difficult to breathe. Satoshi yelled to his workers to lie down on the floor quickly. Less than five seconds later, the shock wave hit. No one was prepared for what happened next. Windows imploded, as the whole building trembled and began it's journey to complete collapse. The last Hirano Satoshi realized before losing consciousness was that he was falling. Satoshi didn't know how long he was unconscious. He did realize he was under a lot of rubble, but his arms and legs were free. As he started to think more clearly, Satoshi realized he was partially under his desk and that it had probably saved his life. He began to move loose boards from above him and to push them under the knee hole of the desk. Soon he had enough of an area cleared that he could see the gray, blackened sky above. He half stood and forced his way up through the last of the rubble. His heart nearly stopped as he realized there was no roof above him. The sight that awaited him was like something out of Dante's Inferno. Black, bellowing smoke rose from crumbled buildings, uncontrolled fires spreading, lapping at anything that would burn. Dead bodies were everywhere. People were stumbling about blinded by the flash. Some of them had the skin peeled from all exposed parts of their bodies. Everyone was screaming, some were cursing, all were asking questions that no one had answers for. Satoshi looked up at the sky and saw that half of it looked like a beautiful summer day, while the other half looked as black as the darkest night. Off in the distance, other buildings exploded and started to burn for no apparent reason. Mountains of distorted rubble were everywhere, burned bodies lay in the tangled mess. Satoshi started trying to find the employees in his building. He heard a low moan and moved some loose boards to his right. One young woman who worked for him was pinned under a ceiling beam of the office. Her once young face was now a mangle of crushed bone and tattered skin. "Please help me," the woman gasped as blood oozed from an open gash on her head. Satoshi frantically tried to lift the beam, and began calling for help. Two young men rushed to his side, their clothes tattered and blood soaked as they strained to lift the beam. One young man paused as fear filled his eyes. Suddenly smoke rose from the ruin near the young woman. The three men increased their efforts, but it was soon apparent they couldn't free the young woman without equipment. The smoke became flame and the flame became an inferno. When the heat became unbearable, the men slowly backed away from the young woman and bowed very deeply in apology for having to leave her. The screams of the young woman lay heavy in his heart, as they turned away from her, unable to watch her perish so horribly. Satoshi stumbled away from the growing fire in search of his family. It was only five blocks from the water department to the Hirano residence, but it took Satoshi over an hour to reach his home. When he arrived, he almost wished he hadn't survived the trip. The first thing he saw was his sixteen-year-old daughter, Atsuo, lying with her head in her mother's lap. At first he couldn't see anything wrong with her and he asked her how she was. Atsuo smiled faintly at her father and told him she was feeling better now, and that the pain wasn't so bad. Satoshi glanced at his wife who shook her head and pulled aside the blanket that was covering Atsuo. A sheet of flying glass had slashed her stomach, and her intestines were draped over the lower part of her body. As he watched, Atsuo slumped further down and her gaze became fixed on something that was not of this world. Satoshi gently covered his daughter and helped his wife to her feet. As they started down the street in search of their younger son, Satoshi asked his wife, Isao, if she was injured. She told him she had suffered only a condition like a mild sunburn and that she didn't think that it was anything to worry about. Satoshi gazed upon her once lovely face. Her cheek bones were sunken, the skin around her eyes had reddened as small blisters had formed on her neck. He knew in his heart she had more then a mild sunburn. His eyes filled with tears as he brought her close to him, kissing her gently on the forehead. They found their son Muso two hours later in an over crowded aid station. Muso had been in the area of the black rain that was caused by the fallout from the blast. It had gotten on his clothes and skin and it wouldn't wash off. The overworked doctor at the station suggested they take Muso to one of the temporary shelters that had been set up on the edge of town farthest from the blast. By the time they reached the shelter, night was falling. The volunteers who helped them to find cots were haggard and worn. The Hirano family were so tired they collapsed onto the three cots they were assigned and fell immediately to sleep. Muso never woke up. Over the next two weeks, Satoshi watched his wife grow thinner and weaker. When she could eat, she soon lost it. Satoshi felt himself becoming weaker also and he wondered how long it would be before he could no longer eat. Isao died on the sixteenth day after the blast. ------- Satoshi's son, Kiso, arrived in Hiroshima two weeks after his mother died. The sky was overcast with a gray mist, the sun found no way to pierce its vast denseness. Reports received by the Army and relayed to the concerned military personnel couldn't cover in words the devastation he saw. Everywhere there were collapsed building and collapsed bodies. Some of the bodies already dead, some should have been dead. The smell of burnt wood, decaying bodies and fallout caused his stomach to retch. Kiso stopped amid the devastation. Sweat poured from his body, he could smell the odors surrounding him, clinging to him. The urge to run from the horror was overpowering. Honor for his country and love of his family kept him where he stood. Kiso forced the bile back, his determination to find his family was great. He forced away the reality of what he saw as he searched throughout the city without learning anything about his family. Finally, after two days of searching endless shelters, he met an old family friend who told him where his father was staying. When Kiso arrived at the shelter, he asked for his father and was taken to his cot. Kiso stared at the man who was once his father. He didn't recognize him. The large robust man was gone. In his place was a shrunken being that looked like a skeleton with parchment skin. The thick glossy mane of hair he remembered was almost gone, only grayish ashen clumps remained. Kiso knew there had to be some mistake... some dreadful mistake. This wasn't his father; it couldn't be. As he was about to go looking for one of the volunteers, he saw the eyelids flutter and open. The sunken eyes focused on him and a smile moved the shrunken lips. A voice, barely audible spoke. "I told them I would not die until you got here," he said. "I am pleased that you came home, my son". The skeletal hand rose from under the old blanket, rising towards Kiso. Kiso hurried to his fathers side, kneeling, he took the cold, almost lifeless hand in his. "I have many things I must tell you before I can allow myself to depart". During the next couple of hours, without moving from his father's side, Kiso listened as the story of the bombing slowly emerged. He watched as Satoshi forced the words out, wincing in pain while he was told of the fate of his brother, sister and his mother. "The Hirano are direct descendants of the Samurai, my son," Satoshi whispered. "Very few people know this. It is kept secret because we are descended from the Shishi. You have read in your history books that the Shishi were violent Samurai who opposed the Emperor and were disgraced." Satoshi's voice rose in honor as he spoke of his heritage. "That is not the case. The Shishi strongly revered the Emperor. They believed that the influence of the foreigners, who were increasingly invading our homeland, were responsible for our problems. It was the foreigners that allied with factions opposing the Shishi who defeated them. We have passed the knowledge and beliefs of the Shishi down from father to son, as soon as the son proved worthy of the knowledge." Satoshi's frail hand clung to Kiso's. "My son, you have proven yourself in war and in your dedication to the family." "You are aware my son, I started you in the discipline of Jojutsu at an early age. This is because the Shishi are required to practice the art. It is up to you to carry on the traditions of the Shishi. After I am gone, go to the Dojo in Tokyo and ask for Okawa Yukio. Tell him that I have died and you are to take my place on the Shishi council. He will instruct you in all you must know." Satoshi paused, forcing himself to continue. "There is one thing more I must charge you with, my son." His fingers bore into the skin of Kiso's hand as he spoke, as an unseen strength gathered itself in Satoshi. "Foreigners have taken the honor from our country for nearly two thousand years. Now they have killed our entire family except for you my son. They must pay for this." Kiso watched the eyes of the man he knew to never hold an ill thought against anyone, become hard and cold. "They must suffer as we have suffered. Promise me you will make them pay. Promise me you will win back our honor." Kiso gazed at the sunken eyes that had always spoken of honor and tradition. He rose from his fathers side. Holding back the tears he felt stinging his eyes, he stared at the broken proud man before him. His heart soared with the honor and respect he felt for his family. He bowed low to his father. "You have my promise Father. I will return the honor of our family, if it takes a hundred years." Satashi's mission was complete. His head bowed ever so slightly, in honor of his son. Slowly he closed his eyes and allowed himself to slip away to join his ancestors. ------- Chapter 2 Saturday, August 4, 2035 Al Green was always impressed when he visited Modern Electronics. This time was no exception. The company was now well established. It was the brainchild of his brother Sam. In fact, it had started out in his brother's garage. It was now housed in a hundred thousand square foot building made of glass and steel. When you walked into Modern Electronics, it was almost like walking into a hospital. The corridors were so clean they shined, and opening off of them were laboratories were people moved about dressed in white clothing that looked like it had come out of an operating room. The peoplesí hair was covered completely by a white caps, and their mouths and noses were covered with surgical masks. Al had seen these people many times in the past, but he always wondered how someone could wear such a garb a minimum of eight hours a day. Al had always been too much of a free spirit to allow himself to be chained to a specific schedule, let alone be forced to wear special clothing and work in a controlled environment. As the brothers walked down the long corridor, they would stop briefly in front of each of the labs, and Sam would explain what was going on in it. Al was only halfway listening to his brother's explanations. He was more interested in watching his brother's expressions, and wondering just how smart Sam actually was. He had always realized Sam was something special. He knew his brother had gotten a full academic scholarship, and had graduated with honors from Stanford University. He knew Sam had gotten a master's degree from Cal Poly, and a doctorate from MIT. He also knew Sam now had several patents to his credit, and that his company was making money hand over fist. No matter how much he realized intellectually that Sam was something special, he couldn't get over the fact that Sam was also his little brother. Al smiled at his brother, patiently waiting out the explanations. It seemed Sam was always doing something, always on the move, and showing off the company's accomplishments was one of his greatest joys. It wasn't that Al had no interest in what his brother had to say, he just couldn't keep up with the technobabble that Sam was inclined to speak. Sometimes he wondered if Linda, Sam's wife, could follow what Sam was saying. Al grinned to himself, thinking of the pretty woman Sam was lucky enough to win over. Maybe when they went to bed Sam actually spoke English or maybe the technobabble actually turned Linda on. Al restrained a chuckle. In any case they had two of the sweetest girls anyone could claim to be an uncle to. "Hey, wait a minute," Al kidded, placing his hand affectionately on Sam's shoulder. "Back up on that last one and go over it in words of one syllable. Are you saying that you've developed dihedron memory crystals that'll hold six hundred gigabytes?" Sam paused, smiling at his brother, knowing full well he'd been only half listening to his technical jargon. "That's exactly right, big brother. Since you're a computer nerd and use dihedrons all the time, you probably know a little bit about them." Sam grinned at his brother, knowing that his last statement would get a rise out of Al. He put up his hand to ward off the onslaught of denial. "You already know that the computer actually changes the lattice structure of the surface layer of the crystal to store information. They're limited to a hundred gigs of storage. If you try to write the data bits too close together the outer layer of the crystal will erode. I haven't gotten around that problem completely, but I'm working on it. I've come up with a process that requires heating the crystal to a high temperature, then filling the chamber with a mixture of gasses. I then rapidly cool the crystal to well below zero. This hardens the surface of the crystal and some of the gas molecules bond with the molecules of the crystal. The new crystal will store at least six times the data that the old crystal stored." "So you mean," asked Al, seeing the possibilities, "that I can put one of your new crystals in my pocket computer and write a total of six hundred gigs of data on it? Do I have to change anything in the computer itself? When are these things going to be available? Do they cost an arm and a leg?" "Hold on," Sam laughed his excitement apparent in his voice. "Looks like I finally got your attention" he grinned at his older brother's obvious interest. "That's right brother. You can write six hundred gigs to it. It has as good or better retention than the old crystals, and if you figure the cost of the heating and cooling chambers into the number of crystals they will process, they're not that much more expensive to make. We've preprogrammed the boot area of the crystal so that it tells the computer what size it is and how to find the data areas, so you don't have to do a thing. It looks like it's going to be six months to a year before they're available on the market, but that's mainly due to a lack of startup capital." Sam nudged Al in the ribs jokingly. "Would you like to invest a couple of million? Maybe we could make an honest businessman out of you yet. I know it would make Dad happy." Al shook his head slowly, remembering the countless times he'd tried to explain his choice of careers to his father. It was futile to try and make him understand, his mind was made up that Al was a deadhead. "Poor Dad. He can never understand why you and I took different paths." He sighed, his eyes shadowing against a memory he wasn't comfortable with. "You know I love him, Sam. It just gets hard to take sometimes being compared to you. I feel that I'm making a contribution to society, too. I know my computer games aren't as socially redeeming as the new products you invent, but I do alright financially. "Hey Sam, you don't have to convince me! I know how hard you work on those games, and you deserve the monetary returns." He stopped in the middle of the corridor gazing forlornly at his brother. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit a sore spot. It seems like ever since Mom died, Dad has been obsessed with making a lasting impression. You were seventeen, I was fourteen. Maybe Dad's lectures made a bigger impression on me." Sam sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, a gesture Al had seen since Sam was a kid. When something couldn't be explained, or Sam couldn't find an answer, that was what he did. "I don't know. There are times I wish I were more like you, easy going and free. It seems like I always have to be producing, coming up with the big ideas." The forlorn look on his face slowly slid away as he grinned, the flashing smile a mirror image of Al's. "It can be fun though... and profitable." he laughed, slapping Al on the back. Physically they were both in their mid thirties, but there all similarity ended. Al was a tall man, with blond hair and blue eyes, like his mother. Sam was shorter and darker, with a distinct Mediterranean cast to his features. They resumed their walk down the corridor, brother beside brother, just as it had always been. The silence between them was comfortable, as though they both knew what the other was thinking. "How much do you need for startup capital on this? Maybe I could invest." Al mused out loud. "Well, the accountants say that it's going to cost around ten million to convert our existing equipment. I already have pledges for a little over five million, so... " By this time they had reached the lab area. The bright fluorescent lighting filled the room, giving the pristine white walls the look of a sterile operating room. Long slanted tables covering the length of the lab stood on both sides of the room. Several men and woman were hunched over the tables, their tall, bar like stools reaching unusually high. Al nodded to a couple of the employees as they looked up from their work, recognizing them from previous visits. Sam moved close to a tall, dark haired, scraggly looking character that Al knew was probably the best microprocessor designer on the planet. Sam had whisked him away from DynaCom, the biggest computer research firm in the nation, five years previously, and it had cost him an arm and a leg, but it was worth every penny. Edison Jones looked up from his work and grinned at Sam. He was tall, lanky and a little stoop shouldered. His piercing green eyes saw everything around him, moving constantly, never resting for long on any one thing. He was listening to a walkman, the music so loud Al and Sam could hear it from where they stood. The small dihedron component walkman rested in Edison's shirt pocket, a bit smaller then a cigarette pack, while the ear phones blasted away in his ears. There were no wires to get in the way, only the smooth sounds of jazz came from the ear pieces. It had been a big seller for Sam and the company, and the brain child of Edison. Sam reached over on a nearby work table, picked up a package, and handed it to Al. "Here's a free sample of the new polyhedrons. There are six in the package, so there is a total storage of 36 Gigabytes in the space where you would normally store 6 gigs. They don't have the company logo or anything yet, but give 'em a try and tell me what you think". Al smiled his thanks, looked the package over briefly, and dropped it in his jacket pocket. Al patted the pocket holding the polyhedron crystals. "Little brother, I think I might be able to raise some, or maybe even all of the capital for you. This discovery of yours will change the computer industry, as we now know it. Of course, I can't finance that kind of money all by myself, but I have a few friends who're interested in computers and the future. I think they'll be able to see how big this is going to be. We would expect a reasonable return on the money, and a piece of the profits, but it could be done." The satisfied smile on Sam's face was smug. "I knew if anyone could see the advantages to this new advancement, you could. You don't know how good that makes me feel, big brother." The smile faded, replaced by a shadow. "I know I don't tell you everything that's going on around here, but I'm really afraid of losing control of the business right now. I'm under a lot of pressure to go public with the company and issue stock. I don't want to do that, just for that reason. I don't want to lose control." Gazing sideways, Al saw the concern in his brother's face. "Well, I'm sure we could work something out so that all you did was repay our capital plus interest and a piece of the profits. I sure don't want control. Remember, I'm the black sheep of the family who hasn't quite grown up yet." "I'm glad someone doesn't want control of my business. I thought I was going to have to hire a commando squad to get rid to the Japanese who were here yesterday." "Japanese? What did they want?", Al asked, concerned. Al watched Sam's face as the unpleasant memory returned. "Well, they've heard of the new polyhedron process and God knows where they heard it." Sam shook his head in disbelief. "The next thing I know, they're wanting to buy my business. It was unbelievable! They came right out and asked me to give them a price. When I said I wasn't interested in selling, they tried to buy the patent rights to the process." Sam raked his hand through his hair in exasperation. "Al, they may have been Japanese, and the guy in charge was polite, hell, he even bowed in the traditional way, but there was nothing traditional about him. He reminded me of the classic used car salesman. And his business partner was even stranger. He was supposed to be a businessman, but he looked more like a professional killer. He had the strangest eyes I've ever seen. I don't think he ever blinked, and he didn't take his eyes off me the whole time he was here. I don't mind admitting I was more than a little intimidated." "Did they finally accept the fact that you weren't going to sell to them?" Al asked. "I don't think they really did. They left, but said they were going to be back next week, and that if I knew what was good for me I would reconsider. At least they left. I told Marge not to let them in if they come back." "If they give you too much trouble, kid, call the cops. That's what we pay them for, so why not make use of them? Maybe you should call them anyway. That is a threat you know." "Oh, I don't think they'll be back. I think they were just trying to save face. Like I said, Marge won't let them in. I've never seen anyone yet who could intimidate her." Sam grinned. They both knew his right hand lady could take on the best of them and come out without a scratch, even at four foot eleven, you didn't mess with Marge. As Sam walked Al out to his car, they made a date for Al to come over the following weekend for dinner and a romp with the girls. As he took off in his little red sports car, Al couldn't help but smile in anticipation. If he never had kids, at least he had the next best thing, Sam's kids. ------- Monday August 6, 2035 The ancient art of Shinto Muso'ryu jo, sometimes known as Jodo or Jojutsu had its origins as an ancient Japanese martial arts form. Muso Gonnosuke is attributed with inventing the form of combat in the early 1600's, after having been bested by Miyamoto Musashi in a duel. Muso Gonnosuke, who was a six foot tall strapping warrior had been going around the country fighting duels and teaching the older forms of martial arts to a following of would be masters. Gonnosuke challenged Musashi to a duel and when he was defeated, he went up to Homangu, part of the Kamado Shinto shrine atop Mount Homan, in Chikuzen province. For 37 days he meditated and performed rites of austerity. On the last night, while praying in front of an altar, he collapsed and had a divine vision. In the vision a heavenly child visited him. The child was holding a round log and said, "Know the attack point on the body." This compelled Gonnosuke to whittle a short staff about 128 cm long. Using the shorter staff, Gonnosuke had the ability to shift it rapidly in his hands. Gonnosuke was able to defeat Musashi in a second duel without causing him great harm. Gonnosuke also created a system of five secret methods (hiden gyoi) that incorporated all the techniques of his new jo style. Relaxed movements and postures characterize all attacks, a maximum focus of energy being applied only at the actual moment of impact. This allows maximum efficiency of movement and conservation of energy and also provides the trainee with a critical margin (yoyu) to be used in the case of something unforeseen occurring The methods of Gonnosuke have been passed down over the centuries and have developed into a form that, while still keeping its martial arts roots, has become a philosophy of living. One of the modern masters of Jojutsu has said that Jodo should be done to build one's character and that Jodo should be like a steering wheel. The road is life. And there are all kinds of ways one can go down the road. Use Jodo to steer as straight a course as possible through life. Hirano Kiso or as the Americans called him, Kiso Hirano, believed in the old ways. He had studied Jojutsu at the hombu dojo in Tokyo and continued to study and practice there whenever he was in town. Today, however, he was in San Francisco, and practicing in the dojo he had specially built on grounds near his estate. When he was very young, Kiso wondered why his father, Satoshi, and his grandfather, Kiso, had been so insistent that he study the ancient discipline. It was only when he reached the age of 21 that his father had told him of the underlying reasons. At that time his father had also told him the story of Hiroshima, the death of his family and the ancient traditions of the Shishi. Even his brother Muso did not know of the family history prior to 1945. This morning Kiso had just finished his bath, meditation, and cleansing rituals before testing himself against an opponent. In the approaching contest he would be armed with a jo (short staff) while his opponent would have a sword. Kiso smiled when he thought of the apparent disadvantage he would be at. True the sword was sharp and strong and if he made an error in judgement he could be killed in one stroke of his opponent's blade. This did not worry Kiso. The jo is a very versatile weapon when in the hands of a master, and Kiso was a master. The jo can be used to strike like a sword, to sweep like a naginata, and to thrust like a spear. Both ends of a jo can be used, unlike the single point of a sword. Depending on where he gripped the jo, Kiso could determine the distance he must be from his opponent. Kiso's opponent entered the seven and a half-mat room, traditional Japanese paper tuned out the blaring San Francisco sun to a faint glow. They bowed to each other and the swordsman immediately began circling to his right. Kiso carefully watched his opponent moving his body only slightly, and making smooth circling motions with his jo. The swordsman lunged, trying to pin Kiso on the point of his weapon. With a seemingly lazy motion of the jo, Kiso moved the point of the sword just enough that it missed him cleanly, then gently tapped the swordsman on the top of the head. The two opponents parted, and again bowed to each other. This should have ended the contest, but Kiso wanted more of a workout, so he signaled his opponent to continue. This time the swordsman circled to his left. He feigned a thrust to the body, and when Kiso reacted, he tried a chop to the jo. The flashing blade and the whirling jo were too fast to follow by eye. Both opponents were in their prime and both were skilled in their version of the martial arts. In the end it was Kiso who seemingly stumbled backwards, apparently off balance and out of breath. The swordsman, seeing an opening and a chance to end the contest, started a slice to the midsection of Kiso. The seemingly defeated Kiso jumped forward, and shifting his grip to the middle of the jo for maximum speed, rapped the swordsman on the head so hard that he immediately fell to the floor, stunned. The swordsman never completed his blow. Kiso helped the swordsman to his feet, bowed to him and signaled that the contest was over. Muso had entered the Dojo sometime during the contest and watched it to its conclusion. He stared at his brother, his face a mask, watching with disdain as Kiso brought down his opponent. Muso was far more westernized than Kiso, and couldn't understand his brother's unfailing obsession in following the old ways. Muso thought it much more efficient to shoot someone with a sword rather than take him on with a piece of wood. When he saw Muso standing in the doorway, Kiso couldn't help but feel a little pride that his brother had seen his victory. As he walked over to his brother, Kiso could sense that something was wrong. "What is the problem, Muso?", he asked. Muso bowed low, acknowledging Kiso. "Brother, it is that bastard who invented the new polyhedron process. I just got off the phone to his office and his secretary informed me that he is not taking any more calls from us. Where do we go from here?" Kiso moved stealthily to a straight back chair, lifting the towel to wipe his face. Each move was controlled, focused. The quiet in the room was overwhelming. Muso braced himself for what he knew was coming. Kiso glanced at Muso, his face barely hiding the contempt he felt for his younger brother. "You never cease to amaze me, Muso. We need that process. Our business will suffer greatly if we allow the Americans to come out with a better product than we supply." Kiso fingered the pendant he always wore around his neck. It was a dihedron crystal, supposedly the first his company had ever produced. "You have full authority to do whatever it takes to obtain the company that is making these new crystals. If you can't get the company, find out the processes involved. If this American refuses to cooperate, then maybe his widow will sell to us. Please leave me now, and show a little initiative on this." As Muso turned to go, he thought how much he would like to knock that sanctimonious look off his brother's face. Just because Kiso inherited all of our fathers businesses didn't make him a better man, only the one in control. He is always talking down to me, Muso thought. He didn't dare, however, say anything like this to Kiso. As Kiso showered in preparation for starting his work day, he thought how his duel with the swordsman was like the hundred-year plan his grandfather had devised. In both, he and his ancestors had moved slowly, struck vigorously when required, and always saved something in reserve for an emergency. Smiling, Kiso thought how fortunate he was to be in control when the plan came to fruition. ------- Thursday, August 9, 2035 Al Green's mind was numb. He was vaguely aware of the peeling gray tiles on the floor of the narrow corridor where Lt. Slavens was leading him. He was even slightly aware of the putrid green walls, and of the inane conversation that Lt. Slavens was trying to carry on. Under the circumstances he didn't feel he had to respond to the good Lieutenant, and the way his mind was acting he wasn't sure he even could respond. The first thing that started to penetrate his detachment was the smell. It was the horrifying smell of formaldehyde and recent death. It was a mixture of blood and Pinesol. It was a combination of feces, urine and antiseptic. As this cacophony of smells started to penetrate his brain, it opened the door to the horror of what he was about to see. As they progressed down the hallway, the smell became more intense. They passed a door marked AUTOPSY, and the smell abated somewhat, but the damage was done. He could not shut off the horror and disgust at what he was about to see. Of course it could be a mistake, but Al didn't really believe this. As they approached the door at the end of the hall, Al's feet grew heavier, his vision tunneled away as though he were part of the old TV stories of a hundred years ago. His breathing became more difficult, he wondered if he was going to have a heart attack. His mouth was dry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. "Please, Mary, pray for me that it isn't him." Lt. Slavens held open the door to the room at the end of the hall. It was all Al could do to walk through that door. He didn't know what he expected to see in the room. It was Al's first experience with violent death. He half expected to see a row of bodies for him to choose from. What he saw was a relatively small room with a desk in one corner, and curtains hanging along one wall. A large man was seated at the desk, munching a sandwich, and reading a magazine. Lt. Slavens motioned for Al to wait where he was and walked over to the desk. The lieutenant had a short conversation with the man, who reluctantly, it seemed, put down the sandwich, and disappeared behind the curtains. Lt. Slavens started talking again, and this time what he was saying made a little more sense to Al. "We're not at all sure of the identity of the person we're going to show you," he said. "His identification had all been removed from his wallet, but we found a small piece of paper, lodged in one of the credit card slots. The paper had a name, Sam Green, and said that in case of an emergence to notify Al Green. It also had your phone number." Al saw the curtains start to move, as a gurney found its way between the curtains and moved into the room, propelled by the large man. On the gurney was a body, covered by a white sheet. The large man looked at Slavens and said, "Here you go, lieutenant, John Doe number 486." Lt. Slavens motioned Al over to the side of the gurney, while the large man went back to his sandwich. Slavens pulled back just enough of the sheet for the head to be visible. At first, looking at the battered and bruised face, Al couldn't tell if it was his brother or not. The more he looked though, the more sure he became that it was. There was one way to tell for sure. "Lieutenant, I'm not sure. My brother has a brown spot the size of a dime on his left hip. Could you fold back the sheet a little farther?" As the lieutenant folded back the sheet, the body's left hand, or what was left of it, became visible. Al could see in a detached way that two of the fingers were missing and that the fingernails of the remaining three fingers were also gone. The lieutenant said, "I didn't want you to have to see all of this. Someone really must have hated him to have done this much damage." When the sheet reached the hip, Al let out a gasp. The room started to close in on him as he felt hot tears of anger, pain and loss fill his eyes. There was the remembered brown spot that he used to tease Sam about. There couldn't be any doubt. This was Sam, his only brother. How was he going to tell Linda and the girls? How was he going to tell their father? The lieutenant cleared his throat. "Is it him?" Unable to speak, Al nodded. Lt. Slavens motioned the large man to take the body away, and steered Al out the door. "We'll need some information from you, but I don't see why it can't wait until tomorrow." Lt. Slavens sighed, knowing he was going against the rules, but he knew from years of experience, Al Green was in mourning. No information gleaned from him tonight would make any sense. Al didn't answer, but remained in his own little world of grief. As they neared the other end of the hall, the lieutenant spoke again. "Would you like for me to notify the rest of the family, Mr. Green?" For a moment Al was tempted, but he couldn't see having the news taken to their father, or to Sam's wife by an outsider. He glanced at Lt. Slavens with appreciation and heartache. "No thank you, lieutenant, I should do it myself." The lieutenant left Al standing on the steps of the large gray building. Al stood there, silent, grieving, unmoving against the light drizzle that was unusual for this time of the year. Memories flooded his mind, of him and Sam as boys, teenagers and finally men. He remembered the look of joy on his face when he married Linda and the proud look when his girls were born. Tears filled his eyes. Sam wouldn't be there for them. He was gone. How long he stood on those steps, he didn't remember. He finally decided putting something off merely made it worse. He considered calling his father and saving himself a trip out to Orinda, but decided, after checking his watch and determining that it was nearly midnight, he could wait until morning before driving out. His father was a notorious late riser, and would schedule none of the classes he taught at USC Berkeley before 10:00 A.M. That left Linda and the girls. Sam married Linda in their second year of college. They prudently waited until after Sam had completed his Doctorate in Molecular Chemistry before starting their family. They then had two of the most beautiful children ever conceived, according to their uncle Al. Al loved the two girls, Beth and Stacy more than he had ever thought it possible to love anyone. Nine-year-old Beth and seven-year-old Stacy thought uncle Al hung the moon. Al had always thought Linda was a nice lady, and they got along well. He even had a crush on her when she and Sam were first married. He would always remember her innocent beauty, with her dark brown hair and startlingly beautiful blue eyes. But, in fact he didn't really know her that well as an individual. He knew her as the mother of the girls. He knew her as part of the team of Sam and Linda. What she would be like as Linda, the single parent, Al had no idea. He vowed to himself that he would help her get through this. He would have to put aside his own grief to make sure Linda and the girls had all of the support they needed. Getting into his car and starting the engine was automatic for Al, but the pain in his heart wouldn't allow him to put the car in gear. The roar from the engine engulfed him, surrounded his soul in a painful agony. He grasped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his grip threatened to rip it from its column. He just sat there. His mind was numb, the pain inside him flooded his body until his muscles ached. The tears he'd held back in the morgue flooded forward as realization of Sam's death came forward, pushing reality into his heart and soul. Minutes passed as he cried, tears for Linda, Beth, Stacy and his father, but most of all for himself. There'd been so much he hadn't said to Sam, so many things they still needed to share. The chance to say these things was gone now. Gone in one horrible moment of death. Al sat in the little red sports car alone, lonely. He couldn't decide what to do next. He needed to see Linda, he needed to be there for her. He was still sitting there when Lt. Slavens tapped on his window and asked if he were going to be all right. No, he thought to himself. I'll never be all right again. He didn't say it though. He nodded his head, put the car into gear, and drove out of the parking lot. It was only after he was driving along the quiet midnight streets that he remembered the Japanese and their intimidating visit to Modern Electronics. Did they have something to do with Sam's death? Was that possible? Would they go as far as killing Sam for the company? Al recalled Sam's feelings of uneasiness. Maybe there was a connection there, though in his heart he knew he was probably barking up the wrong tree. He'd talk with Lt. Slavens about it tomorrow. ------- Chapter 3 Friday, August 10, 2035, PM As Al turned into the short dead end street where Sam's family lived, his heart leaped into his throat. He took the car out of gear and let it roll to a stop. He could see the porch light was on, and a single lamp burned in the living room. The grief Al was feeling became too much for him, knowing what he had to do was beyond anything he'd ever done before in his life. A new onslaught of tears began, his body was wracking with sobs. He couldn't stand the thought of going into this house knowing that Sam would never be there again. They had shared so much there. They had worked on the place together when Sam and Linda first bought it. It had been in pretty bad shape, but it was all the newlyweds could afford. Sam and Al made it into a home anyone could be proud of. They had come there after the birth of each of Sam's girls for a single drink and to relive their own childhood. Finally the sobs abated and the tears subsided. Al reminded himself he had to be strong to support Sam's family. He couldn't delay what he had to do any longer... Linda was out of the house and half way to the car before Al had his door open. He could tell that she'd been crying. The blue azure eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot. "Have you heard anything from Sam?" she asked. "He was due home hours ago, and I haven't been able to get an answer in his office or lab." Al tried to speak, but his throat was so tight all he could do was nod. Linda saw the way he looked and his tear stained face. "Oh, God. Has he been in an accident? Is he in the hospital?" Again, he couldn't speak. He shook his head and the tears started rolling down his face. Linda looked as if she had just run into a wall. She stumbled, then caught herself on the hood of the car. Realization without words hitting her like a bolt of lightening. "No! It can't be! This isn't possible!" Grief taking over, she began hitting the hood of the car with the edge of her fist. Al watched as her fists pounded the top of his car, Gently he put his arms around her and drew her to him. "God," he sobbed, his eyes raised heavenward. "How could you let this happen?" "Mommy, what's wrong?" Startled, Al and Linda looked up and saw Stacy leaning out her bedroom window. Before looking at the child, she straightened, cleared her eyes of tears. "Go back to bed, honey," Linda said in a voice that was almost calm. "Uncle Al just came over to say goodnight." "G'night, Uncle Al." she smiled, her cherub face breaking his heart. "Good night Sweetheart." Al watched as Stacy waved then disappeared inside her window. As he turned back to Linda, he could see a firmer set to her shoulders. "Let's go in the house," he said, noticing the rain dripping off both of them for the first time. He took Linda's hand as he lead her into the living room. Linda took her usual overstuffed chair, while Al sat on one end of the couch, where he had in better days romped with the girls. "How did it happen?" she asked, calmly. "Linda, honey, I'm not sure. The police called me about two hours ago and wanted me to come and identify him." He waited, there was no easy way to say it. "It wasn't an accident. Someone murdered him." Linda jerked back as if she had touched an open flame. "Murder? Murdered him? That can't be. Sam didn't have an enemy in the world." Al watched her with growing respect. The shock and hurt in her face were gradually being replaced by anger. She was going to make it. Sam had picked right when he and Linda got together. "What about the police? What are they doing about finding out who killed my husband? Did they say anything?" Linda's questions bombarded Al. He took her trembling hand into his, squeezing it gently, reassuringly. "First things first Linda. Did Sam say anything to you about the Japanese who were trying to buy him out?" Again Linda looked startled. "He did say some rather strange Japanese businessmen wanted to buy the company, or at least the rights to the new processes on the polyhedrons. Do you think there might be a connection?" Al thought for a moment before deciding to tell her all he knew, then decided that Linda not only had a right to know, but might herself be in danger. He told her about the conversation he had with Sam the previous Saturday and the veiled threats the Japanese businessmen had made. "I know it's not much to go on, but it's the only thing that makes sense. I'm going to the police tomorrow and see what they have to say." Linda looked thoughtful for a moment. In her heart she knew Sam's death hadn't hit her yet. The worse was yet to come. She looked at Al, grief written everywhere in her face. "Did you know they called the office again Monday?" Without waiting for a reply she went on. "When they called, Marge wouldn't let them talk to Sam. They told her they were going to see him on Wednesday and to let him know they'd be there. She told them he wouldn't be available, but the guy just laughed and hung up." "Did Sam give you any names, or the company these guys represented?" "No, but he did say he'd found out why they wanted to buy him out so badly. He said they were from a subsidiary of the biggest manufacturer of dihedrons. He said that his new process would drive them out of business." They were both quiet for a minute. Each lost in his own thoughts. Then Linda spoke up again. "You know, Sam was acting a little strange all week. He didn't want to answer the phone, and I saw him looking out the window through a slit in the drapes several times. He even gave me a large envelope and said that I should give it to you if anything happened to him. I didn't think much about it... he made a big joke about it. He said you were investing in his new process and I thought it had something to do with that." "Do you still have the envelope?" Al asked. Linda got up without saying anything and left the room. She was back in a few minutes with a large manila envelope with Alís name written in Sam's neat hand. "Let's go in the dining room where we can spread this out and take a look at it," Al sighed. When they were seated, side by side, and Al had accepted Linda's offer of a cup of coffee, the busier she was now, the later her collapse would be. Al opened the envelope and slid the entire contents out in a single stack. On top was a typed letter with Sam's signature below. Dear Al, If you are reading this, it means that my suspicions of the Japanese guys I was talking to you about on Saturday were correct. I found out that they work for a company called Hiroshima LTD. This is a subsidiary of Mitsutronics, the largest manufacturer of dihedrons in the world. If I bring out the new polyhedrons, I could run them out of business. Even though I don't have the manufacturing capacity to take over the market, I can license the manufacturing to other crystal manufacturers and make a profit on every one sold. Mitsutronics would either have to pay me for the right to make polyhedrons or have to reduce the price of their dihedrons to the point they would no longer be profitable to make. Al, I changed my will this week. I am leaving you 25% of the business. Linda has the business savvy to run the company as well as or better than I did, but I want you involved. I don't want the company I've worked so hard on to get away from the family. I want Linda to be in charge, but I want you to be there to help her. I know that you would be there anyway, but this way you can have a seat on the board of directors. Linda has 41% of the business and the other 34% is divided up among the three key people who have been with me from the beginning. All of them have their own money in the company. Al, you know I love you more than most brothers ever do. Please take care of Linda and the girls. You know how much they mean to me. I never thought I would be writing something like this, and I feel a little foolish doing it. I'll probably be sheepishly tearing this up in a few weeks and I hope I am. The enclosed papers are the key elements of the new polyhedron process. There are no other copies of the important parts, and no employee at Modern has the knowledge to duplicate it. Guard these carefully. They are my family's future. Give Linda and the girls my love. Sam Al was so choked up when he finished the letter he could hardly breathe and Linda looked like he felt. Rising from the table, AL took Linda's hand, and gently pulled her out of her chair. As they held each other sobbing, Al thought of all the responsibility that Sam had given him. One part of him was dismayed at the amount of freedom he would have to give up to carry out his brother's wishes. When he thought about Linda and the girls, that part of him seemed small and mean. "Are you going to be all right for the rest of the night? Do you need me here when you tell the girls?" "I'll be fine," she answered mechanically. Then she smiled and said, "Now that I know what Sam wants, I'll just have to prove that I'm as capable a person as he thought I was. I'll tell the girls. I don't know how, but I'll tell them. Give me a call in the morning after you have seen the police." ------- The rain soaked streets splashed his prized sports car with mud. Any other time, Al would have been swerving and turning to avoid the potholes in the road, but not tonight. As Al drove back to his apartment, his anger began to build. Who did these bastards think they were, anyway? This is the United States, and you just can't get away with that kind of thing here. But, in his heart he knew it was possible. The good old US of A had gone through a lot of changes over the last fifty years. Criminals were protected to the point that they could literally get away with murder. Even if he could prove that the Japanese businessmen murdered his brother, they probably had diplomatic passports, which meant they couldn't be prosecuted for any crime they committed. Al's mood was black when he walked into his apartment. Normally he could look at the big sprawling open spaces and feel contentment. Tonight it just looked forbidding. The first thing he did was find a hiding place for the documents Sam had entrusted to him. In his apartment it wasn't difficult to find a place that the papers wouldn't be easily found, but he wanted to be absolutely sure no one could find them. As his eyes swept the room, his gaze fell on his collection of computers. One of them was an old IBM 486 from the mid 1990s. He got out his screwdriver and removed the five screws from the back of the tower. He slid the case off, and smiled at all the open space inside. He carefully folded the papers and slid them into the place an expansion board would inhabit if it were installed. He put the computer back together and turned it on to check it out. It booted up with no problem, as he knew it would. Rather than turn the computer off, Al decided to go on line for a while to see if he could find anything out about the two companies Sam had mentioned in his letter. As the ancient modem was connecting to the web, Al smiled. Not many people would bother keeping an old boat anchor around, much less use it, but Al was a different breed of computer nut. He had a collection of computers that was probably more extensive than in any museum. He had models ranging from the late 1970s to the most modern pocket computer manufactured today. The one he was using now had to actually use a phone line to establish communications with the web. Sure he could connect an external satellite modem to it, but that would somehow seem like a desecration. When the web server came up, he checked his in box out of habit. Sure enough there was a message from HAK-N-SAK dated less than an hour ago. He opened the mail and was surprised to see that it was a message of condolences. "How the hell could he know about Sam already?" Al wondered. Out of curiosity Al tried sending an immediate message to HAK-N-SAK. >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>>Hey, Hak are you on line? >> After a brief pause a message came back: <>GAMESMAN@GAMESNET.NET>>Yeah, Man, I'm on. :-( sorry to hear about your brother.>> >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>>How did you hear about it so soon? >> <>GAMESMAN@GAMESNET.NET>>Well, you know, I was kinda cruising the police net and saw the report. Musta been pretty bad, huh? >> >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>> It was bad. You know you can get in trouble on that net, Hak? >> <>GAMESMAN@GAMESNET.NET>>Yeah, man, I know all about it. Gotta have something to keep me busy though. >> >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>>I have something for you if you're interested in doing a little research for me. Need you to check into a couple of Japanese businesses for me. >> <>GAMESMAN@GAMESNET.NET>>This have anything to do with your brother? >> >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>>Yeah. >> <>GAMESMAN@GAMESNET.NET>>Get off line and I'll modem you back. This ain't secure ya' know. >> >>HAK-N-SAK@CYBERNET.COM>>Gotcha. I'm out. >> Al punched the exit button. Al had only a few seconds to wait before his screen indicated an incoming call. He hit the answer button and was again on line to HAK-N-SAK, this time on a direct line, computer to computer. >>Man, you have no idea who might be copying us on the damn net. You shoulda asked for a direct link before you asked anything. >> >>Yeah, Hak, guess you're right. Hope I didn't cause you any grief. >> >>Man, I'm buried under so many different layers of dummy accounts that no one can find me. It's you I'm worried about. You signed on under your official name that you write software and do business under. From what I saw on the pig.net, somebody wanted something from your sib that he didn't spew about. Maybe they'll be after you next. >> >>You know, I hadn't thought about that, Hak. I'll be more careful from here on out. >> Al had an involuntary shudder as he thought about the things that had been done to Sam. >>So, what you want to know, man? >> >>Hak, I visited Sam last weekend and he told me about a couple of Japanese businessmen who had paid him a visit. They wanted him to sell his business to them, and threatened him when he wouldn't. He left me a letter that said the men were from Hiroshima LTD, which is a baby of Mitsutronics. I don't know the names of the guys who visited, but maybe I could call Sam's secretary and find out. What I really want to know is anything that can be found out about the companies, not just the stuff that's available to the public. >> >>Piece of cake, man. Don't worry about the guy's names. They'll be on your brother's computer. I'll get them there. >> >>Thanx, Hak. This'll really help. Don't get yourself into trouble over this. If anyone tries to trace you, get out. >> >>Hey, I know what I'm doing, man. This is HAK-N-SAK signing off. Let you know something later today. >> >>Thanx again, Hak. BYE. >> Al looked at the clock hanging beside the stairs leading up to his loft bedroom. It had a three-foot face, with hands that moved, just like the ones they used in the early 20th century. He could hardly believe it was 4:00AM. Time to try to get some sleep if he going to get out to his dad's house before he left for class. He knew he couldn't put off telling his father, because Sam's death would be all over the newspapers by noon. Al knew that it wasn't going to be easy to sleep, so he went to the old wooden desk he had in one corner of his computer area and opened the bottom left drawer. He pulled out a bottle of twenty year old brandy, which he hadn't touched in probably six months, and poured a large drink. As he raised the drink to his lips, he muttered, "Here's to you, Sam. I'll get the bastards." ------- Al climbed into his little red sports car at exactly 8:00AM. He had slept fitfully for three hours, then gave it up. Telling his father about Sam was going to be almost as bad as telling Linda had been. Al knew that his father would show few outward signs, but he also knew that the news would devastate the older Mr. Green. Al's father was a professor at USC Berkeley, and had been for more than forty years. Until Sam became such a success, you would have thought being a professor of economics should be the ultimate goal of every young man. During the drive to Orinda, Al went over how he would tell his father a hundred times. In the end he decided there was no good way. He would just be straight forward. Al's father's house was a rambling California ranch. It was made of Cedar, glass, and stone, and was set back off the quiet little street that led to it. Al pulled into the circular stone driveway and slowly drove to the front door. He didn't go to the front door. It was now after 9:00AM, and Al knew his father would be sitting on the back porch with his second cup of tea. Al made his way around the side of the house along a cobblestone path and could see the elder Mr. Green gazing out over the valley below him as if he had never seen it before. Al cleared his throat as he approached the steps leading up to the porch, hoping not to startle his father unnecessarily. Mr. Green looked around and saw his son approaching. His face lit up with a smile, then suddenly fell. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" he asked. "You wouldn't be out here this early if something wasn't wrong." "I'm sorry, Dad. I don't know how to make this easy. Sam's dead." The older man looked as if he had suddenly aged twenty years in those few seconds. The lines in his face that were normally invisible deepened into canyons. Al realized how old his father really was. Mr. Green blinked several times, and Al could see a single tear wandering down his face. "How did it happen, Son?" "Dad, he was murdered. No one seems to know why. His money and credit cards were missing, so it may have been a robbery gone bad. I'm supposed to talk to the police again this morning." Al didn't see any reason his father needed to know about the torture. "Well, Son, why don't you go and see them now. I need to be alone for a while." "Is there anyone at the college I should call, Dad?" Al asked, feeling dismissed, but understanding his father's need for solitude. No, Son, I'll call them. Where is he? I'll make arrangements for the funeral. I want him buried next to your mother. Will you talk to Linda about that?" Mr. Green was again gazing out over the valley, not looking at his son at all. "Sure, Dad, I'll talk to Linda. He's at the San Francisco Morgue. I'll ask the police about getting the body released. Are you sure you don't want me to stay for a while, Dad?" "No, Al. Go ahead to the police and get things taken care of. I just want to be alone." ------- Al dialed the San Francisco police department as he was pulling out of his father's driveway. He asked for Lt. Slavens, and after giving his name, was immediately patched through to the lieutenant's cell phone. Lt. Slavens answered in a gruff voice. "Slavens." "Lieutenant, this is Al Green. You said you'd like to talk to me this morning." "That's right Mr. Green. I'm on my way to your brother's house now. Could you meet me there?" "Sure, lieutenant. It'll take me about 45 minutes to get there, though." "That's fine Mr. Green. That'll give me time to talk to his widow for a while before you get there." "See you in a while then, lieutenant." Sam glanced in his rear view mirror as he hung up the phone and saw a black Honda pulling out from the curb behind him. When he turned onto route 24 toward the Caldecot tunnel, the black Honda was still there. All four west bound lanes through the tunnel were open this morning, and traffic moved through them smoothly. Al sometimes wondered why he had the high powered internal combustion engine, sports car. In most cases traffic conditions limited your speed to that of the slowest electric car on the road. The big premium he had to pay for having a gasoline powered car and the cost of the gasoline itself were hardly worth the few times he could find an open stretch of road and really let the beast out. When he did find the chance to attack the road, he usually got a costly speeding ticket for his brief adrenaline rush. Al turned south on Interstate 880 and the black Honda was still there. He decided to slow down and see if the Honda would pass. It didn't. He then sped up, and the Honda stayed with him. Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. Since he didn't care who knew he was going to Linda's house, he didn't do any more to try to shake off the following vehicle. He did wonder who it might be. When he pulled into Linda's driveway, he noticed that the Honda had stopped down the street. He went to the front door and rang the bell. When Linda saw who was at the door, she threw her arms around him and said, "Thank God you're here. I didn't know what to say to Lt. Slavens." "It's O.K., Linda. We just tell him the truth." They walked back into the dining room where Lt. Slavens waited with a cup of coffee. As they approached the table, Lt. Slavens got to his feet and held out his hand. "Thank you for coming over, Mr. Green. You couldn't have had much sleep last night." "You're right about that, Lieutenant," Al said as he and the police officer sat down at the dining room table. Linda slipped off into the kitchen to get some coffee for Al. "I called you from my father's house in Orinda this morning. I thought I had better get over there before he heard about Sam on the news." "How old is your father, Mr. Green?" Lt. Slavens asked with a frown. "Did he take it hard?" "You'd never know from anything he said, Lieutenant, but yes, he took it hard. He thought there was no one in the world like Sam. Always wanted me to be like him." As Linda brought in Al's coffee, Lt. Slavens said, "I was just telling Mrs. Green that we really don't have much to go on. Your brother's body was found in an alley in Chinatown. No one admits to seeing it being dumped. We have run his wallet and all exposed areas of skin for fingerprints, but nothing has shown up. Frankly, Mr. Green, we don't know where to go from here, unless you or Mrs. Green can shed some light on the subject." Al nodded his thanks to Linda and took a sip of the coffee. "Did Linda tell you that we found a letter from Sam last night?" Slavens looked surprised. "No, she didn't. Could I see it please?" Linda looked at Al and he nodded again. She left the room and came back with the letter. For the next few minutes nothing was said as the lieutenant read Sam's letter. "I'm going to have to take this with me," he said. "I'll see that you get it back as soon as possible. Did he say anything to either of you about this? Did he mention the men's names?" "No, Lieutenant, he did talk with me last Saturday about the men coming, but didn't mention their names. He seemed a little frightened of them, and said they'd threatened him. Nothing specific, just that he'd better change his mind if he knew what was good for him." "How about you, Mrs. Green? Did he say anything more to you?" "No, Sir. Just about the same as he said to Al. He did seem jumpy all week, though." "Well, if either of you can think of anything else, give me a call at the station. Iíll be getting back, and see if we can come up with who these two gentlemen were." Lt. Slavens was starting to rise when Al stopped him. "You didn't by any chance have anyone following me did you, Lieutenant?" Lt. Slavens sank back down into his chair. " No, do you think you're being followed?" "Well, Sir, when I left my father's house this morning a black Honda pulled out behind me. It followed me all the way to this street, and pulled in to the curb about half a block down." "Why didn't you say anything sooner, man? Maybe we could've gotten a license number or something. I don't suppose they're still there, but let s check." The three people hurried to the front door and opened it. There was no black Honda. They exchanged good-byes with Al and Linda promising they would call if they thought of anything, or if they saw the black Honda again. As the lieutenant drove off, Al and Linda went back into the house. ------- Chapter 4 Friday, August 10, 2035, PM Hirano Muso was uncomfortable. His collar seemed too tight, and the room seemed twenty degrees warmer than it was. He waited for Kiso to acknowledge him, saying nothing. He knew anything he said would just make things worse. Finally, Kiso looked up from the papers he had been studying. "You have failed me, Muso, and you have failed our ancestors. The death of the American is nothing. You killed ineffectually. We still do not have what we wanted." Muso remained quiet. He could feel a drop of perspiration starting to run down the small of his back. Outwardly Kiso appeared calm and collected. "You take too much pleasure in killing, Muso. I feel nothing about the killing of the American. To me it is a matter of business. He had to die, but only after we took his processes." Kiso looked blandly at Muso. "We could not let him go to the police with accusations against us." With a sigh of what might have been frustration, Kiso asked, "What did you plan to do next?" Muso squirmed a little in his chair. "I am sorry, Kiso. I did not mean for him to die when he did. I think we should put some pressure on his wife. Maybe she knows something." Kiso leaned forward over his desk. " For now, Muso, I want you to leave the woman alone. She is just a woman. I want you to do is break into Modern Electronics. Do it early this evening right after they close for the day. Take Ryu with you. Go through the entire office. I want you to look for hidden files and especially for hidden safes. Let Ryu search the computer system. If there are encrypted files, copy them and bring them to me. Do you understand?" Muso bowed slightly, grateful that Kiso hadn't unleashed his anger toward him. "Yes, Kiso, I understand. Should I do anything about his brother?" Kiso looked at his brother and nodded. "What is this, Muso? Was that an original thought? After you have searched the offices, get Mr. Al Green to a private place and find out what he knows. Be very careful though. Do not let this one die until you have what we want, or you are sure he does not have it. Now, go. I have work to do" ------- As he left Linda's home just after noon, Al realized how exhausted he was. He drove slowly on the way to his apartment because he didn't trust his reactions to drive faster. He kept checking the rear view mirror, but did not see a black Honda. Al fell onto his bed with all his clothes on, and was asleep within seconds. He was awakened just before five o'clock by the sound of his cellular phone ringing. At first he couldn't find it, but as his mind began to clear he realized that it was very close. He finally managed to dig it out of the rumpled mess of covers he had left from last night. "Hello, this is Al Green," he mumbled. His mouth was stuck together and tasted like he had a dead cat in there. "Mr. Green, this is Mr. Agawa. I spoke with your brother last week about purchasing his business. I know this is a bad time to call, but I am going to be traveling to Tokyo tomorrow, and I would very much like to talk with you before I leave." The voice had a strong oriental accent, but Al felt that the man had probably spent most of his life in the States. "I'm sorry, Mr. Agawa. As you probably know, my brother was murdered last night. As you said, this is not a good time." "I understand, Mr. Green, but it is your brother's murder I wish to speak to you about. I may know who is responsible." "If you know something about the murder, Mr. Agawa, I think you should call Lt. Slavens at the San Francisco police department." "But, you see, Mr. Green, I can not do that. As I told you, I am leaving for Tokyo tomorrow morning. If I go to the police, they will force me to delay my trip. I would lose a lot of money. I can not afford to do that, Mr. Green." Al was unsure, but what the guy said did make sense. "Very well, Mr. Agawa, what would you like to tell me?" "I can tell you nothing over the phone, Mr. Green. Telephone lines are not secure, and I would be putting my life in jeopardy. If you could meet me this evening at the Little Tokyo Restaurant on California street, I will tell you all I know. Say at nine o'clock?" Al squirmed around on the bed. He was apprehensive, but didn't think there would be much danger meeting at a restaurant. "OK, Mr. Agawa, I'll be there. How will I recognize you?" Al heard a soft laugh. "Do not worry about that. I will recognize you. My sons favorite computer game is Cosmic Crusaders, and your picture is on the back. I will see you then." There was an emptiness in the pit of his stomach as he hung up the phone. He couldn't quite place what it was, but something about Mr. Agawa didn't ring true. Well, he guessed he would find out more later, so no use worrying about it now. Al set the chrono on his watch and turned over to get another couple of hours sleep. ------- The little red sports car was never intended for the slow pace at which it was proceeding down California Street. Al had looked up the address of the Little Tokyo Restaurant, but he was unfamiliar with this section of town and was driving slowly, looking for numbers on the buildings he was passing. He wasn't paying much attention to the car in front of him, until it suddenly stopped. Al's car crashed into the one in front before he could even hit the brakes. Almost immediately a car rammed into his from the back. Two men jumped out of the car he had hit, and two more came out of the one in the rear. Al tried to jam the door locks down, but wasn't fast enough. One of the men jerked the driver's door open and shoved an automatic under Al's nose. All four men were wearing ski masks, and only the one with the gun did any talking. "Out!" he said quietly. Al could see no way to gain an advantage so he meekly climbed out of the car. "Hands behind your back," the gunman breathed again. When Al had his hands behind his back the second man from the lead car tied his thumbs together using plastic wire ties. Both lead car occupants dragged Al to the rear of the lead car, opened the rear door, and shoved him in. In the mean time, one of the men from the trailing car had gotten into the sports car, while the other returned to the trailing car. Within seconds all three cars were rolling. Except for some glass from Al's headlight, the street appeared as if nothing had happened. "Where the hell are you taking me?" Al demanded. The passenger in the lead car turned toward Al, and casually smashed the barrel of the automatic across his mouth. "Lay down on the floor and keep your mouth shut," the thug whispered. Al could feel the coppery taste of fresh blood as he clumsily made his way to the back floor of the car. It was uncomfortable, but he was afraid to complain. Not another word was spoken until the car pulled into the driveway of an abandoned house about half an hour later. One of the thugs opened the rear door of the car, and again said the single word, "Out." Al ended up sprawling out on his face as he tried to comply with this order. His legs were cramped from being on the floor of the car, and weren't working properly. He felt a rib snap as one of the thugs kicked him. Again, not a word was spoken, but Al new he had to get up. He struggled to his feet, using the side of the car for support, and the masked men shoved him in the direction of the back door of the house. There were holes in the back porch floor and he stumbled again. This time he managed to keep his feet under him as they ushered him into the dark kitchen of the house. One of the thugs pulled out a chair, and they forced Al into it. Again, they used wire ties to tie his arms to the chair. Without saying a word the thug who seemed to be in charge started slapping Al, first forward, then backward across the face. This kept on for what seemed like hours. He was bleeding from both the mouth and nose when the thug stopped and said one word, "polyhedrons." All looked him in the eye. "I have no idea what you are talking about." The first thug nodded to the other one and stepped aside. The second thug began hitting Al in the face, the chest, and the stomach. He could hear a roaring in his ears, and his head seemed to be three feet in diameter. The last thing he remembered was a fist in a black glove smashing him in the nose. ------- Bonnie Gillespie was walking through the San Francisco police department detective offices when she saw an old friend, Lt. Slavens. "Hi, Art, what's shaking?" "Oh, God, the Chronicle," he thought. He put on his best public relations smile and turned toward the pretty auburn haired lady reporter. "Hi Bonnie, what brings you out here? Couldn't find any ambulances to chase?" "Naw, I gave up chasing ambulances. I had one stop on me, and the dentist bill was outrageous." Lt. Slavens laughed and motioned her into his office. "Seriously, what brings you out on a Friday night? I'd have thought a beautiful girl like you'd be out on a date." Bonnie walked over to the straight backed chair on front of the lieutenant's desk, moved a pile of file folders to the floor and gracefully perched on the edge of the chair. "Fraid not, Art. I've given up on men. I just thought I'd see if there was anything interesting going on. Are you working on anything good?" "I sure wouldn't call it good, but I am working on a strange case. Can't tell you much about it though. There really ain't that much to tell anyway," Lt. Slavens said between sips of coffee. Bonnie gave him her best seductive smile. "Come on, Art. Give." Lt. Slavens thought for a moment about how much to tell this lady. She wasn't your typical reporter. She wore her auburn hair unfashionably long, and unless she was at a function that required formal dress, she was always in jeans. Although she was below medium height, she gave the impression of being tall and graceful. Her blue eyes flashed as she realized what Slavens was doing. He finally responded. "I was out until after midnight last night. A guy who owns a local electronics company had gotten himself beaten and tortured to death." Bonnie leaned forward and placed her elbows on the edge of the desk. " Yeah, I heard about that. Aside from the torture, what makes it interesting?" Lt. Slavens leaned back in his chair, which groaned with the effort. "It seems that he had just invented a new process for making memory devices. Supposed to revolutionize the industry. The rest is confidential." "Come on, Art. You can tell me. I'll keep it off the record till you say it's OK." If there was one thing he knew about Bonnie, it was that she was honest. She was also an excellent reporter, and a competent investigator. He knew that if she could use his information to find out something else, she would. "All right, but this is strictly off the record, Bonnie. If it gets out, I'll burn your butt on this one." Bonnie smiled. "Quit being so melodramatic, Art. I promised. Get to the good stuff." Lt. Slavens took another long sip on his coffee. He sure did like an attentive audience. "Two Japanese businessmen visited him just a few days before he was killed. They were trying to buy him out. It made such an impression on him, he wrote a letter to his brother to be opened after his death. Does any of this remind you of anything?" Bonnie jumped to her feet as if someone had stuck her with a pin. "Oh, God! The Miller case! What was the guy's name? Edward, wasn't it?" Bonnie went on without waiting for a reply as she paced back and forth in the small office. "There were two Japanese businessmen who visited him just a couple of days before he was murdered. If I remember right he had just made a breakthrough in some kind of bioengineering, but no one ever found the research papers. Do you think there's a connection?" Lt. Slavens grinned. He had her attention now. "Yeah, I think so. Get this. The guys who visited Miller said they were from Nagasaki LTD. The guys who visited Green said they were from Hiroshima LTD. Get the connection?" Before Bonnie could answer, the phone rang and Lt. Slavens motioned her to be silent. He picked up the receiver. "Lt. Slavens speaking... Oh, shit! I'll be right there. Don't let anyone else in." Slavens was on his feet and moving before he remembered Bonnie. "Come on. You might be interested in this. It's Green's brother. Looks like someone kicked the shit outa him." Bonnie grabbed her purse and took after Slavens. "Where is he?" Lt. Slavens laughed. "Let's just say weíll be chasing an ambulance." ------- As they raced across town, Lt. Slavens filled Bonnie in on what he knew. "Some little old lady called into dispatch. She said that there were lights and strange noises coming from the abandoned house next door. We happened to have a patrol car in the area so they went over to check it out. I don't know the whole story yet, but evidently there were two perps. They ran off when the patrol car pulled into the driveway. The officers found Mr. Green tied to a chair and called an ambulance." Bonnie had been staring through the front window, but now turned toward the driver. "You think these could be the same guys?" Lt. Slavens mused for a moment before replying. "I don't know if it's the same guys, but they're probably connected. The two guys who visited Sam Green were Japanese businessmen. Although... Mrs. Green did say that her husband described them to her as gangster types." Bonnie laughed. "Guido with a Japanese accent." Lt. Slavens sighed. "You know its not funny, Bonnie. The Mafia hasn't been a force in organized crime for over thirty years. It's the Orientals and the Russians who run the prostitution rings and drug cartels now. Everything else, seems like." It was Bonnie's turn to sigh now. "Yeah I know. It's really hard to get evidence of any wrong doing in most cases. When I ask questions they are extremely polite, but what I ask for is never available. Like on this Miller case. I've been working on it for almost a year now and I still don't have anything. I couldn't find out a thing about Nagasaki LTD. I visited their offices and was told that no one from there had visited Mr. Miller. I tried to trace the ownership of the company and ran into a nest of investment groups and holding groups that was impossible to untangle." Slavens grinned. "So much for the information age." Bonnie turned back toward the window. "Right, either you can't find anything, or you find so much that it doesn't make any sense." Little more was said on the way to the hospital. Each was lost in his own thoughts. ------- Lt. Slavens parked in the emergency area, and they entered through the ambulance doors. The lieutenant flashed his badge at the overworked volunteer at the reception desk and was given directions to the Intensive Care Unit. They entered the unit through a double set of doors and were immediately confronted by a nurse's station. The ICU was laid out in a large rectangle with the entrance doors in the center of one of the short ends. There were rooms on either side, and rooms on the opposite end. They could see two uniformed officers outside the door of one of the rooms, about half way down the right side. As they were starting toward the officers, one of the nurses at the station said in a low but compelling voice, "Sir, visiting hours are over." Lt. Slavens again flashed his badge. the nurse looked at the badge in disgust, but she didn't say anything as they made their way to where the officers waited. The lieutenant knew one of the officers from a stakeout they had been on. "Good evening Officer Polchek. Who's in charge here." "Hello, Lieutenant. I guess that's me." "There's a waiting room just down the hall, why don't we go down there and you can fill me in." As they passed the nurses station, Lt. Slavens gave the nurse who had spoken to them a big smile. She frowned and returned to her paperwork. No one said anything as they made their way to the ICU waiting room. As they pushed open the door, they saw they had the room virtually to themselves. One older lady was propped up in a corner of the room, blanket wrapped, and sound asleep. The television was mumbling in the background. The threesome went to the opposite corner of the room and Lt. Slavens introduced Bonnie and Officer Polchek. After they were seated, Lt. Slavens looked at the young officer. "O.K. Polchek, fill us in." Officer Polchek pulled a small notebook out of his breast pocket and began reading. "We arrived at the scene at 9:47 PM. We couldn't see anything from the street, so we pulled into the driveway that ran around behind the house. We saw two perps in dark clothing running toward the back of the house immediately behind the subject house. My partner, Officer Gannon, initiated a foot pursuit, while I investigated the subject house. I found the victim tied to a chair in the kitchen with industrial wire ties, the same kind our swat teams use for restraining a perp. I called dispatch to send an ambulance. My partner returned a few minutes later and said that the perps had entered a car on the next street over. The car immediately drove away, but my partner got the license number. The subject vehicle was reported stolen yesterday." Lt. Slavens looked thoughtful. "Was there a vehicle in the driveway?" "Yes, Sir. There was a four door sedan in the driveway. It too was stolen." Bonnie couldn't restrain herself any longer. "How bad is the victim, Officer Polchek?" Polchek looked at Bonnie for the first time. He liked what he saw. She was a couple years older then himself, maybe mid thirties, but she was well put together. "When I first went in, Ma'am, I thought he was dead. Then I heard him breathing. It sounded like the wind blowing through a bridge. We got him here as soon as we could." Bonnie sensed the effect she was having on the young officer and smiled. She gave him her sweetest grin. "Could we go in and see him, Officer?" Polchek flushed. "Yes, Ma'am, if the lieutenant is finished here." Lt. Slavens nodded his approval, and took the lead as they left the waiting room. The older lady was still sleeping. A different nurse was at the nurse's station as they passed by. She glanced up at them and smiled. When they entered the room they could see that Al was hooked up to a dozen monitors and IV tubes. Lt. Slavens would never have recognized him. Both eyes were black and swollen. His nose was as big as a teacup, and the lieutenant could understand why his breathing sounded so bad. His hands and arms were exposed and except for the IVs and monitors looked to be in good shape. Bonnie looked at Al and grimaced. "Not very pretty is he?" Slavens didn't think this deserved an answer. As they were looking at him, the new nurse came into the room and read the pulse, blood pressure, and temperature monitors, then made note of the readings on the electronic chart she was carrying. Lt. Slavens looked at her name tag then asked. "Is there anything you can tell us about his condition, Nurse Hall?" She looked at him, and frowned. "May I ask who you are, Sir?" "I'm Lt. Slavens of the San Francisco Police." Nurse Hall's smile returned. "I can just tell you what I have on my chart. He has a broken nose and several loose teeth. He has two broken ribs, one on the right side and one on the left. There's a lot of swelling externally, and possibly some internal injuries. He was conscious earlier, but we have him on medication to make him sleep. That is about all I have. If you need more information you might try calling Dr. Daniels in the morning." Lt. Slavens looked thoughtful. "Do you know if he'll be in intensive care long?" Nurse Hall answered reluctantly. "I really don't know, Sir. If it weren't for the concern over internal injuries I don't think he would be in here now. He looks a lot worse than he is." Lt. Slavens thanked the nurse, as she bustled off to her next patient. He looked over at the sleeping patient and decided there was nothing else to be accomplished here. "Officer Polchek, I don't see any reason for you and your partner to hang around. Why don't you guys knock off and get some sleep?" The officer's spine visibly stiffened. "Yes, Sir." Lt. Slavens turned to Bonnie. "I'll give you a ride back to the station. I think I should call his sister-in-law and let her know what happened. She'll know if anyone else should be called." ------- Saturday, August 11, 2035, AM Keiko Hirano was more Americanized than she would admit to her father, Hirano Kiso. She enjoyed nothing more than hanging out with her friends after work, or going to listen to one of the local Mumble Rock groups at a dance bar. This morning she had slipped back into the traditional roll of her ancestors. As she put on her kimono and belted the sash, she ran over the rituals she would perform. Everything had to be perfect. This morning she was serving tea to her father. The tea ritual is called cha-no-yu. It is the Japanese way of drinking tea and required a strict set of rules of etiquette. Although the ritual was painstaking, she knew that she and her father would share a sense of togetherness during the ceremony. Keiko hoped that the traditional kimono would not get in her way while she performed all the ritualistic rising and sitting. As she entered the washing area, she thought about wearing one of her shorter skirts, but knew her father would disapprove. Keiko washed her hands in a basin filled with ice-cold water as she had been instructed years before. She shook them dry as she walked toward the tea room. In the small tea room, Keiko sat on the rectangular carpet located on one tatami mat. She waited in peaceful anticipation. Her father might arrive in one minute, or thirty minutes. It did not matter. The tea will not be rushed. Everything in the tea service is ritual. Everything must be done in just one way. This allows the participants to get completely into themselves. The kakemono is a hanging scroll and is one of the most important items in the tea room. The host decides which scroll to hang, selecting the one which best symbolizes the purpose of the particular ceremony to the guest. Keiko chose the "kei" which means respect. She had taken the utmost care in preparing the tea room and the adjacent garden. Her utensils were in their proper places and were purified using the fukusa (silk cloth). She had poured hot water into the chawan (tea bowl) then put the chasen (tea whisk) in the chawan and then raised the chasen to check the tines. She rinsed the chasen, then emptied the chawan and wiped it with the chakin (linen cloth). Kiso sat down in front of the fusuma (sliding door) and placed his sensu (folding fan) in front of him. He opened the fusuma and looked into the room. He moved the sensu forward, and placed his hands on the tatami mat. He edged into the room, while still seated. The next part of the ritual for was for Kiso to view the tea room. He took the sensu in his right hand and stood. He walked to the tokonoma (alcove) and sat down. He placed the sensu in front of him and made a formal bow. Kiso viewed the scroll. He was very pleased that Keiko had chosen the kei. He viewed the flowers and the vase, and again made a formal bow. He stood again and proceeded across the proper tatami mats (first the kayoi-datami and then the ro-datami to the dogu-tatami), being careful not to step on the tatami edging. He then took his seat in front of the kama (kettle)) After he was seated and comfortable, Keiko said, "Please take the sweet." Kiso bowed to Keiko and responded. "I will partake of the sweet." He took the kashiki (container for sweets) with both hands and raised it slightly to express thanks. He then put the kashiki back down and placed his kaishi (packet of paper) in front of him, with the folded edge toward him. With his right hand, he first took the far dry sweet, and placed it on the kaishi. He then took the near dry sweet. After moving the kashiki back to its proper position, he began eating the sweets. Keiko scooped the powdered green tea from the natsume and placed it in the chawan. She then added hot water to the chawan. She briskly whisked the thin tea. When she was finished, she turned the chawan clockwise twice with her right hand to show the front to her guest. She offered the tea to Kiso and he respectfully accepted. When the tea ceremony was over, they walked in the garden. By their dress and their mannerisms, they could have come from any period during the last thousand year. Keiko was happy, and proud of her father. She knew she had pleased him, and secretly wished that there was always this harmony between them. After a leisurely stroll through the garden, Kiso invited Keiko to his office. She was reluctant to go, because she knew the topic of conversation. There was no way she could get out of it though, so she accompanied him into his domain. Kiso seated himself behind his huge oak desk, and motioned Keiko to a seat in one of the side chairs. The sun was shining brightly through the sliding doors that opened onto the formal garden. "Keiko, I am very happy this morning. The tea ceremony was perfect. I know you did it to honor me and I am proud of that. It pains me to speak of unpleasant things, but I must." Keiko kept her head slightly bowed and did not respond, which was expected. "I must speak to you of your job. I know it is important to you, but working outside the home is not the way of the traditional Japanese woman." Keiko knew that this was going to be the topic of their conversation. She knew she could only wait. Her father would not allow argument. It showed disrespect. "I allowed you to attend the American University, and perhaps that was a mistake. I believed that in the modern world it would be good for a young woman to understand the things her husband must face. I thought it would make you a better Japanese wife. I can see now that instead, you conformed to the foreign ways that were taught." Lifting her head slightly, Keiko finally spoke. "I thank you, father, for allowing me to attend the university. I am young, I am not ready to marry. Until I am, I think that it is good for me to work. I am learning a lot at the bank. Anything I learn will certainly make me a better person later." Keiko deliberately didn't say wife. She wondered if her father would notice. Kiso gazed at his daughter with a look of love and tolerance. But, he was firm in his convictions. "It is the custom in our homeland for a woman to marry early and a man to marry late. It is also the custom for the father to select his daughter's husband. You were told several months ago of the suitors I have been considering. You have expressed no preference, so I have selected one for you. One week from today, you will perform the tea ceremony for Yamazaki Seiichi. You will turn in your resignation at the bank Monday with one week notice." Tears started to well from Keiko's eyes. She wanted to scream, but didn't dare. Japanese women didn't scream at their fathers. ------- Chapter 5 Al Green became aware of himself. His mind was fuzzy and he had no idea where he was. As time passed, he had no way of telling how long, he started to feel his body. Everything hurt. He could feel a sharp pain in his left side every time he took a breath. Surprisingly he wasn't afraid, just curious. His eyes hurt. He could tell that it was light around him, but couldn't manage to get his eyes to open. He tried moving first one arm, then the other. They would move, but only a short distance. It was if he were tied to the bed. Yes. It was a bed. He was lying on his back, not like last night Was it last night? when he had been tied to a chair. The bindings on his hands were at least comfortable. God! Last night, he thought. I wonder what happened. I thought they'd kill me." The only thing about Al that seemed to be working properly were his ears. He heard what sounded like a grocery cart being pushed somewhere nearby. "Maybe I'm being held prisoner in a Safeway," he thought. He smiled. God, that hurt! Then he heard something that made things a little more clear. "Dr. Marzetti, please report to the OR." OK, I'm in a hospital. That means I'm probably safe. Al relaxed and continued to take stock of his body. His legs appeared to be restrained, as well as his arms. He could move all four appendages, so there probably wasn't anything broken. He flexed his stomach muscles and again winced from the pain. Battered and bruised, but probably nothing serious. Al heard light efficient footsteps approaching. "Good morning Mr. Green. How are you feeling this morning?" Al smiled mentally, it was too painful to do it physically. "I'm better than I expected to be, Nurse..." "Roberts." The nurse supplied. "I am worried about my eyes, Nurse Roberts. I can't see anything." "That's quite understandable, Mr. Green. Your eyes are swollen shut. The doctor will be in shortly and he'll discuss your condition with you. In the mean time, I have a visitor for you if you feel up to it. She says she's Mrs. Green." Al tried to move. "Thank God," he said. "Please bring her in." Al could hear the nurse leaving without another word. He wondered where efficiency left off and rudeness began. Al must have started to doze off, because the next thing he knew, a soft hand was holding his. "Thank God you're here, Linda. Do I look as bad as I feel?" "I don't know what the other guy looks like, but I'd say you lost." A soft feminine voice replied. "What the hell's going on here? You're not Linda. Would you like to tell me who you are before I yell for the nurse?" Bonnie smiled to herself. "Not bad. He's keeping his cool." Out loud, she replied. "I'm sorry to have deceived you, Mr. Green. They wouldn't have let me in if they knew I wasn't family. My name is Bonnie Gillespie. I'm with the Chronicle." Al could feel the anger building. In the last 48 hours his brother had been killed and he had been brutally beaten. He wasn't ready for the press. The way he felt he probably never would be. He kept his voice neutral as he said. "Well, Ms. Gillespie, I'm afraid you wasted your acting ability. I have no comment for the press, especially since I haven't even talked to the police yet. Please leave before I have to start screaming." Bonnie wasn't about to give up yet. "Please, Mr. Green, just one or two questions. Do you think the same people beat you who murdered your brother? Do you have any idea what they wanted? Do you think they meant to kill you?" Al let his anger boil over. At the top of his voice he shouted. "Get out! Nurse Roberts, get this person out of here!" In a couple of minutes he could hear Nurse Roberts entering the room. "Please calm down, Mr. Green. What's the problem?" "She's the problem. Get her out of here." Al was nearly shouting, and his face hurt when it contorted with anger. This didn't improve his disposition any. "There's no one here, Mr. Green. Are you talking about Mrs. Green?" The nurse's calm voice did not help Al's anger in the slightest. "She wasn't Mrs. Green. She's an imposter. What do you mean, she's not here. Did you see her leaving?" "No, Mr. Green, I didn't see her leave. She could've gone down the back stairs though." Al's fury was still there, under the surface, but he managed to make his voice sound a little more calm. "Well... thank you, Nurse Roberts. Please make sure she doesn't get back in here." "I'll do that, Mr. Green." Nurse Roberts looked perplexed as she turned to leave. Al had just started to calm down when he heard a door open. "Bye bye, I'll see you when you're feeling better." Al heard footsteps leaving at a controlled but rapid pace. "What a brass plated bitch," he thought. Al realized she must have been hiding in the bathroom, and even though he resented her intrusion, he had to admire her for her resourcefulness. ------- Al drifted in and out of sleep over the next couple of hours. He was again awakened by Nurse Roberts. "You have another visitor, Mr. Green. I'm almost afraid to say it, but she says she's Mrs. Green. Do you want to see her?" Al thought for a moment, then asked. "What does she look like?" "She's about your age, with dark brown hair and blue eyes." Although she was making a statement, there was a question in her voice. "That sounds like the real Mrs. Green. Sure, bring her in." A few minutes later Al heard Linda approaching. He could hear the tension in her voice as she began to speak in the soft quiet tones reserved for hospitals and churches. "Oh, my God, Al. Who did this to you? Are you OK? Can you talk?" Al smiled, then regretted it. This was Linda. "Hi, Linda. Yes, I can talk. I probably feel better than I look. I hurt all over, but I hear that I look worse." Linda sighed and stroked his hand. It was good to hear some spirit in his voice. She had been afraid he would be worse. He sure looked worse. "I'm sorry I didn't get over sooner, but I had to find a sitter. Lt. Slavens called me late last night. He said you were in the ICU, but when I got here they said they'd moved you to a regular room during the night. Are you really feeling alright? The nurses wouldn't tell me anything about your condition." "Yeah, I'm fine. They won't tell me anything either. They keep saying the doctor will tell me everything, but he hasn't been in yet. How are the girls doing? Have you told them about Sam? I've been worried about you guys." Al had been picturing all kinds of scenarios, some involved the girls being kidnapped, or Linda being raped and tortured. There was a quaver in her voice as she answered. "Yes, I told them. They don't seem to really understand what it means. They haven't reacted much at all yet. I dread the funeral. I've asked for a closed casket. I don't want them to see him dead. I want them to remember him alive and healthy." Al could understand what she meant. He wished that he had never seen Sam in the condition he was in at the Morgue. He quickly changed the subject. "Did Lt. Slavens say anything else last night?" Linda thought for a moment. "Not much. He had no idea how you had gotten where you were. He said a neighbor had complained to the police about strange lights and sounds coming from the building. When they showed up, two guys took off. They couldn't catch the guys, so they're still out there. Kind of gives you the creeps." "Linda, I don't want to frighten you unnecessarily, but they were after the process for the polyhedrons. That's about the only thing they said to me. I'm afraid you and the girls might be next." Al could feel the startled jerk of the hand holding his as he said this, but he continued anyway. "Is there any where you could go away for a few days... somewhere no one would think of? I'd feel a lot better, knowing you and the girls were safe." Although he couldn't see her, Al could hear the stubbornness in Linda's voice as she answered. "Al Green, there's no way I'm going to let these monsters run me out of my home." Al sighed. He was proud of her spunk, but he knew she was in danger. "Linda, I'm thinking of the girls. Don't give these 'monsters' as you call them something to hold over us. They haven't realized it yet, but if they kidnapped the girls or even threatened to hurt them, you or I either one would give them what they want in a minute. Then Sam would really have lost." Linda stood, holding his hand. Both were lost in their own thoughts. The realization that he was right slowly seeped into her consciousness. She couldn't let the girls be endangered, but she didn't want to leave. She wanted to fight. God knows, Al needs help, she mused. He sure can't seem to take care of himself. She gripped his hand a little tighter. "You're right about the girls. I can't leave them in danger. I have this girl friend from college. Her name is Molly McClure. She lives down in San Diego. I guess I could take the girls down there for a week or so after the funeral. I'll call her when I get home." Al felt as if a great weight had just been lifted off his chest. "Thank you, Linda. Do me a favor though, and call from a pay phone. We don't know what we're up against here, so let's be careful." Linda drew in a quick breath. "You're really scaring me, Al. If you think it's necessary, I'll use a pay phone. Just be sure that I don't come back from down south to find they've gotten to you again. You might not get off so easy next time." Linda left to make her phone call and Al relaxed. He'd done what he could to insure the safety of Sam's wife and children. Now all he had to worry about was his own safety. ------- Linda had just left when the doctor finally arrived. He introduced himself as Dr. Anderson and broke into a monologue about Al's condition with brisk efficiency. "You have two broken ribs, Mr. Green, one on the left and one on the right. You have a broken nose and some major swelling in the facial area. You also have multiple abrasions and contusions over your entire body. We have given you medication for the pain, and to reduce the swelling. There are no signs of internal injuries or brain damage. We are going to keep you one more night for observation, but if things go as planned you can go home in the morning. Do you have any questions?" Al wondered what charm school this guy had graduated from, but made his voice sound respectful when he asked. "When am I going to be able to see, Doctor?" "The medication we gave you for swelling is working. As the swelling goes down you will be able to open your eyes, probably just a slit at first, but by tomorrow morning you should be able to open them completely. There is no damage to the eyes or optic nerve, so you should be able to see whenever you can get the eyes open. If not, let the nurse know and we will check into it. I really have to go now, Mr. Green. Have a nice day." Al could hear the doctor leaving, his final words still hanging in the air. Al wondered if all doctors were like the one who had just left, or if this one was just so overworked he left his bedside manner at home. The conversation, short as it was, did alleviate some of Al's concerns, so he was satisfied. Still thinking about the doctor's manner, Al dozed off again. ------- The next time Al awoke, Lt. Slavens was standing by his bed. He knew it was Lt. Slavens because he could see him. Everything was slightly blurred, like waking up with a hangover when he was in college, but at least he could make out the good lieutenant's features. He was ecstatic. "Good morning, Lt. Slavens. How long have you been here?" Lt. Slavens smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Green. I've only been here a couple of minutes. You sure do look better than you did last night. I thought for sure you'd gotten in an argument with a bear. Feeling better?" "Yeah, but not like I want to tackle a bear. Since we seem to be destined to keep meeting, why not call me Al? Mr. Green sounds so formal." "Suits me, Al. You can call me Art. I never did like the formal bullshit." They were silent for a couple of moments, each thinking they had made a new friend. In the lieutenant's business, friends were not that easy to make. Acquaintances, sure, but real friends were rare. Finally, the lieutenant asked. "Can you tell me what happened last night, AL?" Al filled him in on everything that led up to his being in the hospital, including his conversation with Mr. Agawa. The lieutenant thought for a moment and asked. "Have you erased your caller ID since the call from Agawa? Maybe we can find where he called from. We'll report your car as stolen. Maybe It'll show up. I don't have much hope of that though. A car like that is a hot property. It's probably in Texas by now, with a new paint job and a new vehicle identification number." Al went over the previous evening in his mind. "No, Art. I haven't erased it. I wouldn't take any bets on finding anything out though. He seemed kind of nervous, like he was afraid to be calling. I'll bet he called from a pay phone, or disabled the caller ID function." Lt. Slavens scribbled a couple of lines on his day planner. "You're probably right, but we have to try anyway. Did he say anything else that might help?" "He did say that he was flying to Tokyo this morning. Maybe he was telling the truth, and maybe it was all a lie." Again, Slavens made a note. "We'll check it out. Have they told you when you re getting out of this joint?" "Yeah, the doctor said tomorrow morning." "Well, give me a call, Al. I'll swing by and pick you up. We can check out the caller ID." They talked for a few more minutes and Lt. Slavens took his leave. As Al was thinking over the past couple of days, he again drifted off to sleep. He was awakened briefly by the orderly bringing his dinner. He ate the bland food with a good appetite, then went to sleep. He wondered briefly before dozing if it was the pain medication causing him to sleep so much, or were they giving him sleeping medication as well. Whatever the case, he was out for the night. Saturday, August 11, 2035, PM Hirano Kiso sat at the head of a black lacquered conference table that could have accommodated twenty people. Today there would be only four other members of the Shishi. As he prepared himself for the meeting, his eyes swept the room. It was a blend of American and Japanese furnishings. The conference table had been imported from Japan, and the rich red carpet was from the US. The chairs surrounding the table were black lacquer with red cushions and backs. Large gold dragons adorned the backs of the chairs. One wall had a large tapestry depicting the second duel between Gonnosuke and Musashi, where the art of Jojutsu was born. This was also the beginning of the Shishi Samurai, the ancestors of Hirano Kiso. The other long wall of the room was almost entirely glass. From his lofty vantage point, Kiso could see the city of San Francisco laid out at his feet. Kiso liked this room. It gave him a sense of power when he saw the small buildings below. He was CEO of one of the largest corporations in the world, and he used it for his own purposes. In this case, his purposes were the "Hundred Year Plan" laid out by his grandfather and namesake. When his great-grandfather died at Hiroshima, and pledged his grandfather to revenge, he never realized how far reaching that revenge would be. Hirano Kiso, freshly back from the wars with the Americans, developed a Hundred Year Plan that would come to fruition on the hundredth anniversary of the bombing that killed his family. He made use of the Shishi society, taking over the leadership within five years of learning of its existence. The Hundred Year Plan was, stated simply, a plan to take over the government, industry, agriculture, transportation, and finance of the United States. This afternoon, the most important people in the Shishi society would meet to discuss the plan and its progress. The first member to arrive was Egawa Naoyuki, President and CEO of the Tokyo Global Bank. No word was spoken between Kiso and his first associate. They bowed deeply to each other and Egawa took the first chair to the right of Kiso. Egawa was a distinguished older gentleman with gray hair. Kiso knew him to be in his early sixties, with no male heirs. It was probably a good thing that the completion of the hundred-year plan was so close, as there was no obvious replacement for Egawa. The second and third members came in together. They were silent as they entered, but Kiso could tell that they had been in deep conversation. Each new arrival bowed to Kiso and Egawa, and they bowed to each in turn. Kiso had worked with their fathers for many years and had liked and respected them. Both men were young and eager. By American standards they were probably too young to be in the positions they held. Takatani Goro, CEO of Kosugi Properties, took the chair opposite Egawa, and Sakurada Isami, President and CEO of Nakazato Transportation, took the seat next to Tatatani. Within seconds, Kosaka Mamoru, President and CEO of Nippon Investments, entered the room. Kosaka was nearly the same age as Kiso, but where Kiso worked hard to keep the discipline of Jojutsu, Kosaka had allowed himself to decline. After the traditional bows were exchanged, Kosaka took the seat next to Egawa. Unlike most American meetings, no refreshments were served and no small talk was exchanged. Kiso looked at each member in turn then, directly at Egawa. "Could we please have a status report from you, Mr. Egawa?" Egawa used no notes, but began speaking immediately. "We have successfully completed the purchase of City Inc., since our last meeting. This gives us a 30 percent share of the American Banking industry. We are currently bidding for three other companies that will increase our share to 45 percent if we are successful. Even with a 30 percent share, we could cripple the American banking industry within twenty-four hours." As he finished speaking, he glanced at each of the other members, then bowed to Kiso. Kiso returned Egawa's bow then looked to the investment expert. "Mr. Kosaka." "We now own a controlling interest in eight major brokerage firms on Wall Street. We have computer programs installed in all of the computer buy and sell systems for these brokers. We are continuing negotiations for other brokers, and we have a covert operation in place to sabotage the computers of the New York Stock Exchange. If today were the final day for the Hundred Year Plan, we could shut down the NYSE for thirty-six to forty-eight hours." Mr. Kosaka bowed to Kiso, who returned his bow and nodded to Mr. Takatani. "Kosugi Properties now owns or controls 20 percent of the farm land in the United States. In addition we have control of all of the major agricultural unions. We now own 22 percent of the grain storage facilities and control more than a third of the meat packing and storage facilities. Additional land and facilities are being purchased as we speak. If we were to shut down all we control today, there would be chaos in the food industry. We project that current supplies of foods not under our control would last the current population less than one week. This is partially due to hoarding that is expected when food supplies start running short." Again the speaker bowed to Kiso. Kiso returned the bow and indicated that the final member should speak. "Nakazato Transportation now has a controlling interest in the two major bus lines and in three major airlines. We also have control of two major oil companies, one of which supplies the majority of aircraft fuel to civilian airlines. The single remaining rail transportation line is under our control. We have control of the labor unions involved in shipping, trucking, and air transportation. It is safe to say at this time we could shut down the transportation industry within minutes and keep it shut down indefinitely." Mr. Sakurada bowed to Kiso. Kiso returned the bow, then scrutinized each of the faces at the table in return. "Mitsuki Industries has been supplying manufacturing equipment to American industry for the last thirty years. Nearly every piece of manufacturing equipment is computer controlled. Almost every computer, and definitely all that we supply use dihedrons for storage. One of our subsidiaries, Mitsutronics, has the exclusive patent for dihedrons. We either manufacture them, or license the manufacture of all dihedrons used in the Unites States. Licensees must use our processes to manufacture the devices. Imbedded in the manufacturing process is a set of commands that will allow us to take over the operation of any machine or computer using these devices. When the time comes, we can shut down 90 percent of the manufacturing in this country." Kiso looked at his associates seated around the table then spoke. "Your accomplishments bring honor to each of you and to our country. We want to be absolutely sure that we are able to take control when the awaited day comes. Though your accomplishments are great, I ask you to continue acquiring properties and control. When the hundredth anniversary of Hiroshima comes, we will restore honor to our homeland." When he had finished speaking, he looked at each man in turn and asked if there were any questions. Mr. Sakurada bowed and said. "Yes, Mr. Hirano. I have one question. When the day arrives, what is to keep the American government from fighting us? How will we protect ourselves from their military?" Kiso paused for a moment, considering how much he wanted to tell even these people, who he trusted implicitly. "Mr. Sakurada, I have been considering this for years. It is one of the questions I asked my father. He had originated a plan to influence the Federal Government. I do not wish to discuss the details of that plan, but we are working to have enough congressmen under our control to control the government. We can influence the outcome of legislation now. I will admit that if today were the day we were working toward, we would probably not have the power to shut down the government. The problem with the American Government is that congressmen are so transient. We will continue to get the legislation we need passed over the next ten years, and when the time comes, we will have the laws in place to insure we are not bothered by the military." Kiso again looked at each member of the Shishi elite. "I have nothing further today. Let us plan to meet again six weeks from today." Kiso moved to the door of the conference room, and bowed to each of his fellow conspirators as they left. ------- Chapter 6 Sunday, August 12, 2035, AM Al awoke slowly. The first thing he became aware of was the pain. The disorientation was less than yesterday, but the pain was much more severe. They must have taken me off the pain medication during the night, he thought. He slowly opened his eyes. At least he could see today. He didn't have much experience with hospitals, but the room he was in seemed typical. There was a single bed, which was a little unusual, but a curtain that could be pulled around the bed was still there. The bed was one of the new voice activated kind, with a back up console, just in case. He told the bed to raise his upper body and it did. All he had to do then was say, 'more' or, 'less' to get it to the angle he wanted. As the bed began to move, he couldn't suppress a small yelp of pain. His ribs hurt something terrible, and for a moment it was hard to breathe. As he reached a more comfortable position, the pain in his chest eased up and breathing became more normal. Great, he thought. I can even smell things today. Not that being able to smell is so desirable in a hospital. As if moving the bed was a signal, a nurse came bustling into the room. "Good morning, Mr. Green. How are you feeling this morning?" Al recognized the voice of Nurse Roberts from the day before. "Good morning Nurse Roberts. I'm in quite a bit of pain this morning, but I can see, and my mind seems to be working better. I guess I'd say I'm very well." The nurse looked at him and smiled. "The swelling seems to be almost completely gone from your face. Your eyes are all the way open. Can you breathe through your nose?" Al drew in a great draft of air, then winced. "Yes, ma'am. I seem to be able to breathe through my nose with no problem, other than the pain in my ribs." Nurse Roberts nodded. "That's to be expected. The doctor has left orders for some medication that will make the healing of the fractured ribs much shorter than it would have been just a few years ago. Within a couple of days, you shouldn't be feeling any pain, and within a week they should be healed completely. The doctor was in to see you while you were sleeping. He said you can go whenever you're ready. I'm not trying to rush you, but if you're out before noon, it will save you some money." Al smiled a wry smile. "To be honest with you, Ma'am, being in a hospital is like being in jail. I can't wait to get out of here. I don't even have a pocket computer with me, and that is like going through drug withdrawal. I have to have my computer fix soon, or I'm gonna start climbing the walls." The nurse sniffed as if she had been insulted, then left the room. Al picked up the phone next to the bed, and called the San Francisco Police Department. He explained who he was and asked for Lt. Slavens. Within a minute, Slavens was on the phone. "Good morning, Al. Are you getting out of prison this morning?" Al let out a belly laugh that caused his ribs to remind him he should act with more decorum. "That's funny, Art. I just made a comment to the nurse that being in a hospital was like being in jail, and I think it made her a little angry. Yes, I am getting out this morning, can you still pick me up?" Al could hear Lt. Slavens chuckling over the phone. "Some people just don't have a sense of humor. Yeah, I'll be there in less than an hour. I have another call, so I've gotta run. See you later." All replaced the receiver and smiled. It was nice to meet someone like Slavens. Too bad it had to be something like this that brought them together. Then again, they would have never met under normal conditions. With nothing to do for the next hour, Al began to go over the things he knew about his brother's death and the beating he had taken. There had been Japanese visitors to his brother's business just before he was killed and they had been intimidating. It was a Japanese who had set up the appointment with Al that had led to his beating. If a nosy neighbor hadn't reported something going on, he would have probably been killed as well. There was a definite Japanese connection here, but he couldn't figure out what it was all about. He needed more information, and he was the best there was at getting information, with the possible exception of HAC-N-SAC. That was his first priority when he got back to his computers. Al called Linda to let her know he was getting out of the hospital, and she promised to come see him later in the day. Al hit the call button, and a few minutes later, Nurse Roberts appeared. He asked her for his clothes, and was only mildly surprised to learn that he didn't have any. His shirt had been ripped off him, and his pants were badly torn, so the hospital staff had disposed of them. He was wondering what he would wear to get home when the nurse again appeared. She brought him a set of green surgical scrubs, his own shoes, and an envelope with his wallet and wrist chrono. Of course his keys were gone. They had been taken with his car. He was showered, shaved, dressed and ready when Lt. Slavens arrived. They went to the nurses' station, and Al signed all the papers to allow him to leave. ------- Lt. Slavens' unmarked police car looked like any of the larger family electric sedans you could see going about the city. It was at least three years old, and had picked up the usual bumps and scratches cars were prone to get in a modern city. It needed washing badly, and someone had said so in the dust along the passenger side of the vehicle. The inside was tidy, without the clutter Al had expected. When Slavens started the engine, all thoughts of this being a family vehicle disappeared. Al could feel the muffled roar as the five-liter engine fought for life, then settled into a quiet purr. "I should have known the SFPD would supply their finest with the finest," he commented. Lt. Slavens beamed with pride. "This isn't your standard issue police car, I'm afraid. Don't tell anyone, but I have a friend in the motor pool. The standard issue rig with this body style has a three-liter engine. It's good enough to catch most speeders, but I wanted something a little special. My friend took a five-liter engine from a confiscated drug car that had been wrecked in the final chase, super charged it, and put in a better, computer controlled, fuel injector system. This thing will out run anything on the road, including that little red sports jobbie of yours." Al could understand his friend's pride in the vehicle, but was nettled by the remarks about his car. "I don't know about that. My car has a few little surprises itself. Maybe we could find somewhere to try out your theory after all this is over, provided we find my car, that is." Lt. Slavens looked like a big kid when he answered. "Yeah, I'd like that. I really have my doubts about finding your car though." They were both silent for a few minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Al asked. "Did you find anything out about Mr. Agawa?" Lt. Slavens must have been thinking about the same thing as he answered immediately. "Not much, I'm afraid. There was a Mr. Agawa scheduled for a flight to Tokyo yesterday morning, but he didn't take the flight. He had made his reservation a month in advance, and paid with a credit card, so it doesn't look like the trip had anything to do with you or your brother. We're trying to find a local address for him through the credit card company, but it's the weekend and finding anything out from a bank on the weekend is nearly impossible. I guess we'll just have to wait for tomorrow if we don't get lucky on the caller ID." Al told Lt. Slavens about his unusual visitor from the day before, describing in detail her ruse to get in, and their conversation. "I was never so angry with anyone in my life. She's truly a bitch, and I hope I never run into her again." Slavens laughed until his sides ached. "I know this woman, Al. She's a friend of mine, and really not a bad sort. She was just trying to do her job. She didn't ask anything that was out of line, did she?" "Well no," Al grudgingly admitted. "It's just that she lied to get in, then she came over and just held my hand without saying anything. Besides, I ran her out before she could get to the embarrassing questions." Slavens shook his head and smiled. "Art, she probably didn't know if you were awake or not. She'd seen you in the intensive care unit the night before, and knew how badly you'd been beaten. I'm not saying you should give her an interview, that's up to you. But, if she comes around, talk to her. She's good people. She's also a real knockout." Still looking doubtful, Al nodded. "After that trick in the hospital, I'll be damned if I'll give her an interview. I'll be nice to her though, so get that worried look off your face. I can be a gentleman when I try. I just don't try very often." They lapsed into silence again, broken only by Al's, "Turn left at the next light," or "turn into the driveway on your left," until they reached Al's apartment. Now it was Lt. Slavens turn to be surprised. He looked over the old warehouse they had pulled in beside, then at Al. "This is where you live?" Al laughed at the lieutenant's consternation. "It sure doesn't look like much, but it's home." They got out of the car, and Al walked over to a man-sized door, set next to an old-fashioned freight door that slid to the side. There were a chain and a padlock on the freight door, but only an electronic keypad by the side of the normal door. Al punched in a code and opened the door. He motioned Slavens to follow, and went over to a large freight elevator. Once they were in the elevator, which could have taken a fork lift with a full load, comfortably, he pressed the top button, and the elevator began to rise. When they reached the top floor, the doors opened automatically. They exited the elevator and walked across a tile floor that was old but clean, to the door of Al's apartment. "I have a keypad to actually open the door" he explained. "But, I also have a security system." He approached a grill, set at the level of his face and spoke distinctly. "Lamb little a had Mary." He turned to Slavens and said. "If I'd said that phrase in the usual order, it would've allowed me to open the door, and it would've immediately called police headquarters and reported a break-in. There's also a key slot under the grill for my maintenance man, or if I come home in no condition to talk properly" Al punched in the keypad code and opened the door. When he walked in the door, he felt like he had walked into a brick wall. "My God," he mumbled. "Someone's been in here. God, they've ransacked everything." The lieutenant pushed Al aside and moved past him. From somewhere a revolver had materialized. He did a quick look around the asked, "Are there any other rooms?" Al was shaking like a leaf in a high wind. "Just the loft where my bedroom and bathroom are." He gestured toward the flight of steps leading up, hoping that his new friend wouldn't see his hands shaking. Lt. Slavens took the stairs two at a time, then did a shoulder roll onto the floor of the loft. He came up on one knee with his with his revolver sweeping the loft. Nothing. He could see the door of the bathroom on his right, and toward the rear of the loft. The door was opened, inward, and he could see a small sliver of the floor, and part of the vanity, but not enough to determine if there might be anyone in the room. His heart pounding and face flushed, Slavens edged to his right and slid along the wall until he was near the open door. He got down on one knee, and peeked around the corner of the door. Nothing. Getting up, he entered the bathroom and turned on the light. In contrast to the rest of the apartment, it was totally modern, and sparkling white. It had all the conveniences, but it was compact and wasted no space. There certainly wasn't any room for an intruder to hide. Feeling a little sheepish, Slavens went to the rail at the front of the loft. From there he could see the entire apartment. No one was there but Al. He returned to the first floor. Al put the cushions back on his couch and chair, and motioned the lieutenant to be seated. He then went to his refrigerator, removed two beers, and took one to Slavens. They sat sipping their beers for several minutes before either of them said a word. Finally the lieutenant cleared his throat as if embarrassed and began speaking. "It's none of my business, but did they get what they were looking for?" One of the first things Al had done was glance at the old 486. "No, Art, they didn't. I do want you to know where the papers are stored, though. Linda doesn't know, and I want someone to be able to find them if something happens to me." Suddenly realizing that there might be listening devices in the room, Lt. Slavens brought his finger to his lips, then started talking in a conversational tone. "Sure thing, buddy, I think that's a good idea." He touched his finger to his ear, then his mouth, and shook his head. Again, shaking his head he said, "The papers aren't here in the apartment though, are they?" He hoped that Al would get his meaning, and was not surprised when he did. For a moment, Al had been confused by his friend's antics, then a light went on in his head. "That's right, Art. I hid them where no one can possibly find them. I'd be a fool to hide them here. This'd be the first place they looked." While Al was speaking, Slavens had started a thorough search of the room. He reasoned that any listening device would be on something that hadn't been trashed in the search. It took him only a couple of minutes to find the first bug. It was located under the lip of one of the computer desks. He pointed to the bug then said. "It's a good thing you didn't tell me where you hid those things, Al. I just found a listening device under your desk. I have to run down to my car for a couple of minutes, be right back." When Slavens returned, he had a device in his hand that reminded Al of something out of a grade "B" science fiction movie. There was a large wand, with a cable connecting it to a box that was clipped to the lieutenant s belt. The box had a display like a bar graph, and when Slavens pointed it toward the bug on the desk, the bar lighted up from left to right. As he moved the wand away from the bug, the bar got shorter. Slavens carefully removed the listening device from the desk, them dropped it inside a shielded container he had on the other side of his belt. When the container was closed, the bar disappeared completely. Slavens then went over the entire room, including the loft and the bathroom, with the wand. He found a total of six more bugs, which he also deposited in the container. Satisfied that the room was now free of unwanted electronics, Slavens returned the equipment and the container to his car. When the lieutenant returned, sans bugs, he explained to Al. "I thought about leaving the bugs in place, and maybe feeding them some false information, but it s hard to keep up an act for days at a time. It's too easy to slip up. Then they get the information they want anyway. I can guarantee the place is clean of devices. I even checked the phone lines for taps, and didn't find any. It's harder these days to tap a phone, since everything is satellite. They can pick up your signals, but the signals are encrypted. Makes it tough on the poor crook." A million things had been running through Al's mind. He felt a little dumb not having thought of a bug. He had been kicking himself because he had almost given away the location of the papers to the bad guys. "I haven't known you long, Art, but respect you and I know I can trust you. Don't ask me how. I don't know. I do know you're honest." With that, Al showed Slavens the computer the papers were in, and showed him how to open it. Al sat down in front of the computer and looked slyly at his new friend. If you could ignore the fact that I'm going to bend a few laws, I think I could get you the information you want about Mr. Agawa. Slavens chuckled. "Lord, Al, I don't know the first thing about computers. I think I'll just go over to the couch and finish my beer." Less than ten minutes later, the printer spit out a sheet of paper. Al took it over and handed it to Slavens. "Address and phone number." Slavens asked if he could use Al's phone, then dialed the number on the sheet. He let it ring ten times, but there was no answer. He then called the police dispatcher and asked to have a unit go over and check out the address. He gave them Al's number and asked for them to call as soon as they knew something. While the lieutenant made his call and waited for a response, Al busied himself straightening the apartment. God, it was a mess. Nothing was seriously damaged, just thrown around. He could tell papers would have been found if he had used any of the original places he had thought to hide them. All of his computers had been turned on, and he assumed that the hard drives and dihedrons had all been checked for the information the intruders had sought. Right smart of Sam to put the information on paper, he thought. Nobody uses paper to store data now. The phone rang and the lieutenant answered. "Lt. Slavens speaking." There was a slight pause, then. "Oh shit. Don't touch anything till I get there. Call the crime lab and get a forensics team rolling, and call for a search warrant. I'll be there before the fingerprint and flyshit brigade." With that he hung up the phone and was on his feet in a single movement. "Agawa is dead. The officers who responded can see part of his body in a pool of blood through a window beside the door. Do you want to go with me, or have you had enough blood for a while?" Al seriously considered going for a moment, then decided he was better off at home. "Thanks anyway, Art, but I think I'll pass. Linda will be here after while, and I need to get the place back in order. Let me know what you find out, if you can." Slavens made a hasty exit, and Al was left to his clean up work. The first thing he did after making the apartment livable was call a locksmith. He asked for the best security lock they had to be installed in place of the one the Japanese had a key for. He also requested a back up lock be installed to supplement his keypad lock, and agreed to pay double if the work could be done before night. The locksmith was agreeable and said he'd be there within the hour. Al finally felt that he could relax for a while, so he sat down at his main computer and checked his e-mail. Sure enough, there was a message there from HAK-N-SAK, asking him to call on a modem line as soon as he was out of the hospital. It was beginning to seem like Hak knew more about what went on in his life than he did. "Oh, well, there isn't much you can keep from a real hacker," Al thought. He checked out a couple of other e-mail messages, and wrote quick replies. He found that if he didn't answer them immediately, be was prone to forget. As he was getting ready to call Hak, the door bell rang. It was the locksmith, and Al got him immediately started on beefing up the security of the apartment. Hak had an automatic answerer on the modem line Al called in on. The phone picked-up, and a canned message came on, describing the bulletin board service you had called. Al waited for the main menu, then selected the option for talking with the SYSOP. He entered a short message, hit the enter key, and before he could lean back in his chair HAK-N-SAK was on line. >>Hey, man, how you feeling?>> >>I'm much better now, Hak. I suppose you heard about me over the pig net.>> >>No, man. I am doing a security job for the hospital you were in, and I was checking out their old security system. Antique, man. Course then I checked out pig net to find out what had happened. Tough break. This connected with Sam?>> >>Yeah, they were looking for something Sam had left with me. Did you find anything out about those two companies?>> >>Have I ever let you down, man? Not just anyone would have found the connection. It isn't clear just how they tie together as far as ownership goes, but I found a better connection than that.>> Al had to laugh. Hak was making this as melodramatic as possible. >>OK, Hak, don't drag it out. You already have my full attention. Give.>> >>Hiroshima LTD is a subsidiary of Mitsutronics. That part is clear. It gets nasty when you find out that the majority of Hiroshima is owned by an investment company Gonnosuke Associates. Muso Hirano is the President of Hiroshima. A large portion of Mitsutronics is owned by Mitsuki Industries. Another portion is owned by Gonnosuke. When you put the two together, it is enough to give control.>> >>Just a minute, Hak. You mean that this Gonnosuke Associated is big enough that it has a major part of both companies?>> >>You ain't heard nothing yet, man. The major stockholder in Mitsuki is, you guessed it, Gonnosuke. The second largest stockholder in Mitsuki is the company President and CEO. I won't keep you holding your breath. His name is Kiso Hirano, the brother of the President of Hiroshima.>> Al was having trouble taking all this in at one setting. He had set his computer to record the entire conversation, so he knew he could go back later. >>Maybe we should look into this Gonnosuke a little more. Find out if they own anything else.>> >>Already done, man my friend. I'll send you a complete list of their holdings when we finish talking, but they are into everything. This must be one of the largest investors in the US of A, and I'd never heard of them. Now, hold on to your hat. I've got something else. The CEO of Gonnosuke is none other than Kiso Hirano.>> Al thought for a few seconds before answering. >>This gets more interesting with everything we learn. If you don't mind, I'd like you to dig into Gonnosuke a little further. Also into this Kiso Hirano. I'd like to know everything about him if possible.>> >>Gotcha. I had something strange happen to me while I was digging. I found some encrypted files in computers of all four of the companies I was checking out. This isn't strange, but they were in the same sub-directory in all four of the companies. There were a different number of files in the computers of each company, so it isn't the same data in each. You know how I am about not being able to get into something, so I snatched the directories from each of the companies.>> >>Good for you, Hak.>> >>Well, now comes the real strange part. After I was off line, I tried to download the directory from one of the companies to a dihedron, and the dihedron quit working. I got a new dihedron and tried it again, same thing. Have you ever heard anything like that?>> >>New to me. Could be just some bad crystals, or a bad drive. Did you try writing anything else to the crystals?>> >>Yeah, they work fine with anything else, just not the files I snatched. I m looking into the files, trying to decrypt them. No luck so far, but I'll make you a wager I have them decoded before next Saturday.>> >>Great Hak. Looks like my locksmith is about done, so I'll sign off for now. Keep digging if you can.>> >>Love to, man. Be careful. I don t know where I could find anyone else to steer me to interesting things like this. Bye for now.>> >>Bye, Hak.>> Al had a lot of new information to think about, and a lot of work to do in the apartment. The locksmith finished his work soon after Al finished his conversation with Hak. Al gladly paid the outrageous amount on the bill, and then gave the man an extra twenty as a tip. The locksmith went away happy, and Al was left to himself. He spent the rest of the morning cleaning and repairing. By the time he was ready for lunch, his mind was in a complete jumble. He would need help putting the corporate picture together, and he knew just where to get it. Linda would be here before the day was over and he'd ask her to help. Maybe between the two of them, they could figure it out. ------- Chapter 7 Sunday, August 12, 2035, PM It was shortly after lunch when Linda showed up at the apartment. She seemed pleased that Al was moving around well and that he could actually see. Al gave her a big hug, then told her the condition the apartment had been in, and about the bugs, and the new security. Al had watched her while he told his story, and had seen her growing concern. She seemed a little relieved when he told about the new locks, but he could tell she was under a lot of tension. Al assured her that the papers were still safe, and that Lt. Slavens knew where they were hidden. He fixed her some coffee, and brought it to her at the couch. He sat down opposite her in his favorite chair. They sipped their coffee in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Linda spoke. "Your father called me last night." Al knew what was coming, but he asked anyway. "What did the old fart want?" Linda shifted her position on the couch. "He had called Friday afternoon, and said he was going to make the funeral arrangements if I didn't mind. Of course I didn't mind. I couldn't stand the thought of making them myself. He called me last night to let me know the funeral will be tomorrow at 2:00 P.M... They are having a "viewing" tonight at the funeral home in Orinda, but I can't go. He's making a circus out of this, with an open casket, and he wants everyone in the family to be there to welcome guests and accept their condolences. Al, I just can't do it. We got into a little bit of an argument about it, and I told him I wouldn't be there tonight, and that the casket had better be closed tomorrow. He finally agreed, but he wants you there tonight." "Shit!" Linda could see the disgust in Al's face. He shook his head. "There's no way I'm going to participate in his ghoulish rituals. I'll go to the funeral, but not tonight. I'll call him later and let him know." Linda seemed to relax a little. "Then you don't think I'm horrible for not going to look at my husband's dead face?" "Hell no! I'd think you were a little strange if you did. By the way, do you think you'd be able to swing by and pick me up tomorrow? I'll drive from here, if you'd like." Linda considered for a moment then nodded. Al saw the dark circles under her eyes. She wasn't sleeping, he could tell. "Yes, I think it's better for us to stick together. I'm trying to hold up, but I don't know how well I'll manage when it actually comes to saying goodbye for the last time. If you're with me, maybe I'll be able to get through it." Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back the tears that welled in her eyes." Al just nodded and sipped his coffee. He wasn't at all sure how well he'd hold up. They were both silent for a few minutes, then Al asked. "Did you call your friend in San Diego?" "Yes, I called her yesterday. I'm going to leave right after the funeral. It's about an eight-hour drive down there. I should get in before midnight. I'm sure I won't be sleepy after the funeral." Again they lapsed into silence. Each was thinking about the ordeal to come, and knowing they couldn't avoid it. Al could see that Linda was giving in to the grief that haunted her, so he told her about his conversation with HAK-N-SAK. He could see that her interest was piqued when he started talking about the interlocking companies. "I know it's a bad time, but I'm not able to see the whole picture on this. I was wondering if you might look over the recorded conversation I had with Hak, and the documents he downloaded to me. Maybe it'll give us some idea about what's going on." Linda brightened instantly. This was her forte. She loved the intricacies of big business, and it made her feel like she might be contributing to finding out why this had happened to her husband. Soon, they had her seated at Al's dining table with a cup of coffee, a laptop computer, and the printouts of the documents from Hak. Al left her there, and relaxed in his favorite chair to think about the other things Hak had told him. There was something about the fact that Hak couldn't save his encrypted files to crystal that bothered him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He had been musing on this for quite a while, when the security console announced a visitor. Al walked over to the security console and looked at the screen, on the security console, that showed him who was at the door. It was Lt. Slavens, and someone else. Al buzzed the outer door to let him in, then went to the apartment door. When the elevator stopped, Al was speechless. The person with the lieutenant was the most heart stopingly beautiful woman Al had ever seen. Al finally found his tongue and invited them inside. Before Al could say anything else, Lt. Slavens spoke up. "Al, I'd like for you to meet Bonnie Gillespie. Bonnie, this is Al Green." Slavens smiled at them encouragingly, then stepped back. Al was torn between anger and awe. "Ms. Gillespie, it's nice to meet you. I hope you'll forgive me for my actions yesterday. I'm afraid you caught me at a bad time." Bonnie smiled and extended her hand. "That's quite all right, Mr. Green. I guess being a reporter for so long has caused me to forget how other people might feel. Please accept my apologies for intruding so soon after your horrible experience. I can be a brass plated bitch if I don't watch myself." Al blushed. These had been his very words describing her yesterday. "Apology accepted, Ms. Gillespie, but only if you call me Al." The only way Al could describe it was that Bonnie s face lit up when she smiled at him. He caught his breath when she said. "Certainly, Al. Please call me Bonnie. You know, I was waiting around outside when Art came up. I was trying to get the courage to ring your bell. I didn't think you'd let me in. Art told me he thought you'd talk to me, but that you refused to give me an interview. I just want you to know I'll live with that, and I promise not to print anything you tell me, unless you specifically say I can." Al was mesmerized by her eyes and her voice. He finally realized he was still holding her hand, and gently released it. He didn't know if he imagined it, but he thought he felt a gentle squeeze as Bonnie also released his hand. Slightly flustered, Al looked around for Lt. Slavens. He saw that the lieutenant had gone over to talk with Linda, and he and Bonnie went over to the dining table. Al supplied coffee for the new arrivals, and retrieved his own. When he got back to the table, Linda and Bonnie were talking animatedly, as if they'd known each other for years. Linda was telling Bonnie about the files she had been going through, and her conclusions as to the setup of what was probably the largest conglomerate on earth. Al started to become concerned about how much Linda was telling her. His concern must have shown on his face, because Bonnie took his hand and said, "Al, the promise I made you about not printing what you say applies to Linda too." Al visibly relaxed, and tried to follow what Linda was saying. This was made doubly difficult because Bonnie had forgotten to release his hand. Al finally got a chance to interject the question that had been burning in his mind since Slaven's return. "What did you find out about Agawa, Art?" He didn't hesitate in answering, so Al knew that Art trusted Bonnie with the information he was about to give. "There's not a lot to tell. We found him dead in his home. There was no sign of forced entry, but his security system was turned off. It looked like someone had come to his door, he had let them in. He had his passport in his jacket pocket, and his money and credit cards were still in his wallet. Nothing appeared to be missing in the house. He had been tortured and beaten, then shot with a small caliber weapon. I'd say the only thing they were after was when and where Agawa was going to meet you. Don't ask me how they knew about the meeting, but I'm reasonably sure that's what they were after." Al became very thoughtful and, several minutes later, excused himself and went to the bathroom. He stayed a long time, and finally had himself under control when he returned. He had two things bothering him. One was the death of Agawa, and the other was Bonnie. Agawa's death disgusted and terrified him. He had never met the man, but had talked with him about Sam's death. It was like opening a refrigerator and finding nothing inside. Whatever it was that Agawa had wanted to pass on must have been important, or else he wouldn't have risked his life to set up a meeting with Al. He was also bothered by the feelings he was having for Bonnie. He had never been so attracted to anyone in his life. He had an on-again off-again girlfriend who was a photographer for one of the large Netzines. When she was in town, they saw a lot of each other, and made love when they felt like it. Al had wanted something more, but Paula didn't want to tie herself down to just one man. Al had always known she saw other men when she was on the road. He didn't like it, but that didn't keep him from enjoying her company when she was in town. He had been thinking about breaking off with her for a long time, but just hadn't had sufficient reason. "Maybe now I have," he mused. Everyone was getting ready to leave when Al got back to the table. As they were saying their good-byes, Al told Art about Linda's plan to take the girls to San Diego after the funeral. Art thought for a few minutes then said. "Good plan as far as it goes, Al." He then turned to Linda. "Does anyone besides us know you're going?" "Only my friend in San Diego, Art. I called from a pay phone, and I told her not to tell anyone we're coming. I don't see how anyone else could know." Art turned back to Al. "OK, here's the plan. I'll be going to the funeral tomorrow. When Linda's ready to leave, we'll follow in my car to make sure she isn't being followed. If we see a tail, I'll pull them over." Again turning to Linda, Art continued. "No matter what happens, when you're leaving, keep going. We'll make sure it's safe." As they were walking toward the door, Bonnie remarked that she was impressed by HAK-N-SAK's sleuthing. "I'd really like to meet him sometime. I've been trying to find out about the setup of the companies he traced for almost two years now." Al gave her his biggest grin. "If you'd like to stay a few minutes, Bonnie, I'll see if I can get him on line." Bonnie didn't hesitate before answering. "Sure, I'd like that," she answered, blushing because she was afraid the others had noticed how quickly she had accepted. Al might be black and blue, but he was a handsome man. Likeable, too, now that he wasn't upset about being deceived. After Art and Linda had left, Al asked if Bonnie would like more coffee. "I really don't, Al, but I would like a tour of your apartment if you don't mind. I'm fascinated by it. I've never seen a place quite like this." Al was impressed by the obvious sincerity of her request and gave her the grand tour. He finished by showing her his entire computer collection, and was at least mildly surprised with her knowledge of computers, especially the ones from last century. They chatted comfortably, and soon they were talking as if they had known each other for years. Al modemed HAK-N-SAK, and surprisingly got him the first time. He introduced Bonnie to Hak, then left them chatting. While he was waiting for Bonnie to finish her conversation, he started puttering around in the kitchen. When she finally finished with Hak, she wandered over toward Al, and he sat her at the table. "I hope you don't mind," he said, "but I've fixed us a bite to eat. I hadn't realized how hungry I was." Bonnie assured him she didn't mind, more impressed than she cared to admit and waited while he served her, then himself. She took a large bite then raised her eyebrows. "What is this, Al? I don't think I've ever had anything quite like it." Al looked a little sheepish. "I hope you like it. I didn't think to ask what you preferred. This is my own concoction. I call it Mexican Stroganoff. It's a little spicy for some, and I usually wouldn't make it for company." "No, it's great", she said as she took another hearty bite. "I love spicy foods. You'll have to give me the recipe, or at least invite me over for it again sometime. You know, I think this is the first time a man has ever cooked for me. I've been taken to a lot of restaurants, but nobody has ever invested their time and energy into cooking for me." Al could feel himself swelling with pride. He had done the right thing. They ate in companionable silence for a while then Al asked. "I hope you don't mind my asking, but why were you so interested in talking to Hak." Bonnie considered her answer for a moment, then decided she would be completely open with this man. She explained to him that she had been investigating at least three other murders that had happened over the last two years. The main thing connecting them was there had been a couple of Japanese businessmen visit each a few days before their deaths. In all three cases the men had told their secretaries that the Japanese had wanted to buy out their businesses, and that they had refused. Also in all three cases, the owner had just made a major breakthrough in his field, something, they had told their secretaries, would revolutionize their industry. "I tried tracing the companies the Japanese businessmen claimed they were representing, but came up with a dead end on each one. I thought Hak might give me some ideas as to how to dig deeper, but he went one better. I gave him the names of the dead guys, the Japanese in each case, and the companies they were from. He said he'd try to find out what he could about them and let me know tomorrow. I hope you don't mind my taking advantage of your friend." Al could feel the tension and excitement growing as Bonnie told her story. He was having a hard time containing himself by the time she finished. "Do you realize, Bonnie, that you have just described the circumstances leading up to my brother s death?" "Yeah, Al, I'd gathered as much from what Art told me. That's why I was so anxious to talk with you yesterday. Would you mind telling me what you know? I guarantee it won't go any farther." Al didn't even hesitate this time. Somehow since Bonnie had arrived, he had come to trust her. Their dinners had grown cold while Bonnie had talked, so Al took her hand and led her over to the couch. They sat side by side as he filled her in on everything that had taken place, including his trip to Modern Electronics. He told her how excited Sam had been over his discovery of a way to increase the storage capacity of dihedrons by six times, and about the concern Sam had over his visitors. He even let her read the letter Sam had left for him. When she finished, there were tears in her eyes. "I know what you have been going through, Al. As a reporter I see so much anguish that I sometimes forget how bad it is for the families of victims." They sat and talked for a long time, about everything and nothing. Finally, Bonnie stirred and said that she had to leave. Although he was reluctant to see her go, Al walked her to her car. Bonnie stood close to him, and looked him directly in the eyes. "Would you mind if I came to your brother's funeral tomorrow?" Al shook his head. "No, Bonnie, I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, I think it would be a big comfort to me, knowing you were there." Al was stunned when Bonnie grabbed his shoulders and gave him a brief peck on the cheek before she got into her car and drove off. Monday, August 13, 2035, PM Al was waiting outside his apartment when Linda came to pick him up for the funeral. He had spent the morning puttering around the apartment, and thinking about the files that Hak couldn't save to a dihedron. He had called Hak and had him send one of the files over so he could try saving it on one of his computers, with the same results. It just wouldn't save to a dihedron. He had then remembered the polyhedrons that Sam had given him. When he had tried to save the file to the polyhedron, it had worked perfectly. He was still mulling this over when Linda pulled up in the station wagon. When Linda got out of the car to walk around to the passenger's side, Al could see that she had been crying. The girls, however, were boisterous, and happy to see their uncle. Al kidded with them as he drove, and then took Linda's hand and gave it a squeeze. She smiled her thanks, and held on as if she were falling off a cliff and his hand was her only thing she had to cling to. Stacy informed him that they were going to her father's funeral, but from the way she said it, Al knew she really wasn't aware of what a funeral was. He glanced over at Linda and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. The girls must have seen their mother's tears as well. Beth put her arms around Linda's neck from behind, and gave her a big hug. "Mommy, please don't cry. You said Daddy's in heaven, and God will take care of him. Uncle Al's gonna take care of us." Al couldn't help but smile. "I sure will, honey," he said then added to himself, "that is if I can take care of myself." His track record for the past few days didn't seem to indicate that he could. The rest of the drive to Orinda went quickly, and when they arrived at the funeral home an usher met them in the driveway. He asked who they were, then motioned them into one of the parking spaces reserved for family. When they entered the funeral home, Al stopped in his tracks. The room they were shown to was full of flowers. The cloying scent of so many different varieties made him think of an explosion in a perfume factory. He saw his father seated in the first pew, and steered Linda and the girls toward him. Al's father smiled bravely when he saw them, and hugged Linda and the girls in turn. He offered his hand to Al, but Al forced a hug instead. He knew that hugging him made his father uncomfortable, but took a strange pleasure in the discomfort. Soon the service started. Sam's father had requested a funeral service that was at least fifty years old. There was hymn singing by the entire congregation, a eulogy was read, and a sermon was preached. When the hymn singing was over and the last prayer had been said, Al felt a great sense of relief. The show was not over by any means, there was still the grave side ceremony to go, but at least the sitting down part was finished. Al got to his feet, and helped Linda and the girls out to the limousine that awaited them at the curb. When he had entered the funeral home, he hadn't seen either Art or Bonnie, and he'd been a little disappointed. Now he saw them in the last pew. They were sitting, waiting for the family to exit. As the family passed them, Art nodded to Al, and Bonnie gave him a small, be brave, smile. The ushers had loaded the family into a limousine, and Al went docilely. He was lost in his own thoughts, remembering his brother and the good times they'd had together. He knew that the hardest part was yet to come. He could almost ignore the casket at the front of the funeral home, but at the grave it would be the center of attention. They gathered around the casket, which had been put onto a carrier that sat over the open grave. Everything was tastefully draped with artificial turf, so that the open grave itself could not be seen. Linda and the girls were between Al and his father, in a formation as old as time. Al could feel the tears streaming down his face as he thought of Sam in the brass plated box in front of them. He wasn't aware of anything around him until the minister began reading the grave side service. The words of the minister were far from comforting. Al didn't know how much more he could take, and was considering going back to the car, when he felt a soft hand take hold of his. This time he let Bonnie hold his hand without screaming for the nurses. His mind immediately started to clear, and he realized he had only a few minutes more to get through. Thankfully, the grave side service was soon over. The funeral director gave the family only a few minutes of quiet time to say goodbye in their own way, then tastefully, but firmly, loaded them back into the limousine for the trip back to the funeral home. On the way back, Al's father started talking. "I really am surprised that you didn't show up for the viewing last night, Al. I can almost understand Linda not wanting to come, because of my grandchildren, but you should have been there. I guess it just goes to show how little you cared for me or your brother." Al had been prepared to listen to his father's insults for the rest of the short trip without saying anything, but Linda broke in. "Father, if you ever want to see me or your grandchildren again you won't say another word. Al has been closer to Sam, Stacy, Beth and me than you ever were. He practically worshiped Sam, and he'd show you how much he cares for you if you'd only let him." "But, Linda, I was just..." Linda held up her hand and broke in again. "Not another word, Father. I mean it." The rest of the trip was finished in silence. ------- As soon as he was back at the funeral home, Al sought out Bonnie and Art. They were standing around Art's car and discussing the funeral. When he walked up to them, Bonnie gave him a hug and whispered in his ear. "Hang in there. The worst part's over." He pulled away quickly, but was strangely comforted. They had waited around a few minutes exchanging small talk in subdued voices when Linda and her two daughters joined them. Linda solemnly introduced the girls to Art and Bonnie, then said she was ready to go. After hugs and kisses for their uncle Al, Linda and her two daughters got into her station wagon and started toward the freeway. Al, Bonnie, and Art followed about a block back in Art's over-powered cruiser. Art told his passengers to be on the lookout for suspicious vehicles. Slavens was starting to relax, when he saw a black Honda pull out of a side street between his car and Linda's. There was nothing really suspicious about the car, except it was the same kind of vehicle that Al had reported following him. He decided to wait and see if Al noticed the vehicle before he said anything. He didn't have long to wait. Al's body jerked when he saw the car pull out in front of them. "That's the same car that followed me." Art broke in before he was finished. "Yeah, I know. We're just going to drop back a little and see what they do. I told Linda to speed it up a little when she hits the freeway, and if this guy stays with her, we'll know we have him." They made a three car convoy when Linda turned south on I-880. Slavens watched the speedometer creep up to 70, then 80, then 85 miles per hour. The Honda stayed right with Linda, and Slavens stayed with the Honda. "Well, what do ya' think Al? Should we pull these boys and give 'em a ticket?" He didn't wait for an answer, but flipped a switch on the dash. The flashing lights turned on behind the grill of the souped up police car. Another switch turned on the siren. They could see the driver of the car in front of them glance at his rear view mirror, but instead of pulling off on the shoulder, the Honda sped up, and swung around Linda. Back in the right lane it accelerated quickly, and was pulling away before the lieutenant knew what was happening. Slavens had a grin on his face that spread from ear to ear. "I was kinda hoping they'd do that. Hang on guys, we're in for a little fun." By now, the Honda was using all three lanes, weaving in and out, and traveling at a reckless pace. Al looked over at the speedometer. It was registering 97 MPH. He started wondering about Art's idea of fun. Art was driving with one hand while he used the police radio to call for backup with the other. Al watched the speedometer pass the 100-MPH mark, and he could see that they were gaining on the black car. The Honda driver must have realized he was being overtaken as well. Suddenly he swerved to the right and took an off ramp to a city street. Slavens followed easily. You could tell that he was in his element when he was behind the wheel. They made a right turn onto the street at the bottom of the ramp, and saw that they were in an industrial area. Slavens smiled. He knew where they were. It was probably the safest place for a high speed chase in the bay area. There was nothing but warehouses and factories. No pedestrians to worry about, and very little traffic at this time of day. Again he called in his position and the direction of travel. The radio informed him that there was a patrol car in the area and asked where he wanted it. Slavens gave directions for the patrol car, then said to Al, "I sure hope they don't know this area. If they take a right when they get to the dead end a few blocks up, we've got 'em. There's only one way out going that way, and the car I have coming has plenty of time to block it." This was a side of his new friend that Al hadn't seen. Art's lips were curled back in a predator's grin, and his eyes sparkled with excitement. Slavens let out a yelp of pure glee when they saw the car ahead break hard for the T-bone intersection it was entering, then turn hard to the right. The road they were now on was barely wide enough for two cars to pass. It ran between large warehouses on both sides. They could see the blue and white police car pulled crossways of the street about a quarter of a mile ahead. There were no turnoffs between them and the cruiser. At first it looked like the Honda was going to give it up and stop, then it started accelerating. Both policemen assigned to the car saw what was happening and ducked behind the buildings on either side of the road. The Honda was still accelerating when it hit the patrol car. They could see the crash, then hear the noise from it. -- For a moment it looked like everything was over, then the two vehicles erupted in a fireball that lit up the entire neighborhood. They heard a quiet, "Oh, my God!," from the back seat. Slavens stopped the car and jumped out. He told Bonnie and Al to remain in the car, then ran toward the burning vehicles. By the time he got there, another patrol car had arrived on the scene. The two new officers were helping the two who had abandoned their car to their feet. They looked shaken up, but not seriously injured. Slavens took one look at what had been the black Honda and knew there wasn't a chance of anyone being in there alive. Back in Slavens' car, Al turned in his seat and looked at Bonnie for the first time since the chase began. "Are you OK?" he asked. Bonnie looked like she had been made up for a Japanese play. Her face was white, and there was no expression whatsoever. Finally it sank in what Al was asking her. She nodded her head. "I need a bathroom, Al." ------- Chapter 8 When they finally arrived back at Al's apartment, Al invited Bonnie and Art in. Art declined, saying he had a bushel of paperwork to complete before he could knock off for the day. Bonnie didn't have her car, but decided to accept Al's offer of coffee, then take a taxi home. While Al made the brew, Bonnie wandered around his apartment, touching something here, picking up a photo there, and generally getting to know the place, and Al as well. She decided that she liked being with this guy. He was fun to talk with, and she was definitely attracted to him. They called HAK-N-SAK back while they sipped coffee, and had a three-way conversation. Al wasn't surprised to learn the companies Bonnie was interested in from past murders were also owned, at least in part, by Gonnosuke, or one of the companies it controlled. Al told Hak that he had not been able to save the file he had sent to a dihedron, but had managed to save it just fine to a polyhedron. >>You know, man. Dihedrons are made by one of the companies I snitched the files from. >> >>Yeah, so what? >> >>Could they have something in the crystal that keeps it from storing files encrypted like this? >> Al whistled then glanced over at Bonnie to see if she caught what Hak had said. >>You may be onto something there, Hak. I don't know enough about computer hardware to answer. I'll dig into it. >> >>Be careful what you're digging into, man. You almost went belly up in the tank once over this. Maybe next time it'll be the old flush city. >> >>Gotcha. I don't think they could flush me down the toilet though. Too big. >> >>Bonnie, you still there? >> >>Yeah Hak, I'm here. >> >>Take care of this guy, would'ya? He may be a great programmer, but I don't think he's got half sense when it comes to bad guys. >> >>Yeah Hak, I know what you mean. :-) A little dotty. >> >>Ok, guys, enough of this BS. I said I'd be more careful and I will. Have you made any headway in breaking the encryption of those files yet, Hak? >> >>Not much, man. I'm digging on it though. It's not one of the standard programs. I'm actually having to work at this one. I'll let you know when I've got it. >> >>Ok, man, see you. Bye Bonnie. >> >>Bye Hak. >> Bonnie excused herself shortly after they finished their talk with Hak. Al phoned a taxi for her and they waited outside the apartment until it arrived. Al was feeling a little uncomfortable being with this very pretty lady that he couldn't quite trust. He squirmed for a couple of minutes, then decided he had to say something. "You know, I'm sorry about what happened before. I usually have better control over my temper." "I'm sure you do," she smiled. "If you didn't, you'd have been in jail years ago." The smile helped to soften her words, but didn't do much for Al's comfort level. He remained silent until she had entered the taxi. They exchange good-byes, and Al watched her drive off. He had an almost uncontrollable urge to go after her, but then realized he couldn't even if he wanted to. No car. ------- Hirano Muso sat before the black lacquered desk and waited for his brother to speak. The silence had grown oppressive for the younger man and he was beginning to sweat. He could feel it on his face, and under his arms. Now he could feel a tiny stream of perspiration beginning to run down the small of his back. It was annoying but he knew he couldn't move. The men who worked for Muso were loyal to him. Any one of them would face death willingly if Muso said it was needed. He also knew that any one of them would just as willingly kill him if Kiso told them to. Finally Kiso shook his head and spoke in a low voice. "Twice again you have failed me, brother. I promised our father I would look after you, but he did not know you were going to disgrace our family this way. You had to run from the police like a dog with its tail between its legs. Then, you lost two of our best men in a senseless car crash. You should have instructed them beforehand to submit quietly to a traffic citation if they were stopped. The police had nothing on them except speeding." Muso sat quietly. He was outwardly calm, but inside he was a caldron of seething thoughts and emotions. He knew his brother was stronger and faster than him, but was prepared to fight if his brother decided to kill him. As for committing suicide, he knew it would be the honorable thing to do if his brother requested it, but he couldn't see himself actually doing himself in. Kiso stared at his brother, then spoke again. "Since you are my brother, and since my father asked me to take care of you, I am going to give you one more chance. You have one week to insure that no one starts manufacturing polyhedrons. If you have not completed this task in one week, I will no longer protect you." "I do not care what methods you use just be sure that they cannot be traced back to the Shishi. Do not get yourself in trouble with the local police, if you are caught, do the honorable thing. Remember you are a Hirano." ------- Archie Gates, better known as HAK-N-SAK, was, as usual, seated at his horse shoe shaped computer desk. He had four of the latest and greatest computers available to man surrounding him. One was reserved for the bulletin board service he ran and another was used primarily for work. The third computer was his pride and joy. It had eight separate modem ports, so that he could be talking on one line, downloading files on another, and doing data searches, or whatever on the rest. He had never had all his lines in use at once, but it was nice to know they were there if he needed them. The fourth computer was used mostly for play, and for developing new personal software. He has been using strictly numeric code words to try to break down the encryption of the mystery files. Before he went to bed last night, he had set the fourth computer up to start using alpha characters. He reasoned that the code would be at least four characters long for security reasons, so he started with four letter combinations, starting with AAAA, and ending with ZZZZ. He checked the progress of the program and saw it was now up to six letter combinations, starting with the letter "r". He was just cleaning up some administration items on his bulletin board a few minutes later, when the fourth computer beeped at him. He turned around, expecting to see a random combination of letters that the computer had mistaken for a word. Instead he saw what could only be a file structure. "Son-of-a bitch, I've gotcha now!" he nearly screamed. Archie looked at the six-letter combination that had decrypted the files. "Shishi," he said aloud. "I wonder if that has some special meaning." Archie was singing as he started copying the encrypted files to a special subdirectory in an unencrypted format. Beating the encryption scheme was better than sex for him. The challenge was what he lived for. He soon had the files he had filched from all of the companies in their own sub directories. All, that is, except the one that had almost gotten him caught last night. That one appeared to be the same encryption scheme, but used a different code word. He sighed and set up two of his computers to start working on this file. Soon, Archie was going through the files he had decrypted. He was very methodical in what he did, so first he checked to see if there were any similarities between the files in each subdirectory. One file was the same in all directories, so he started with that one. The name of the file was SHISHI.LST. When he opened the file, all he saw was what he assumed were a list of Japanese names. The first five names on the list each had a star following the name. ? Hirano Kiso * ? Egawa Naoyki * ? Takatani Goro * ? Sakurada Isami * ? Kosaka Mamoru * ? Hirano Muso There were another fifty or sixty names on the list, but the only ones Archie recognized were the two Hirano's from his research a few nights before. "Almost looks like a membership list," he thought. "This may have opened up a bigger can of worms than I realized" he muttered to himself. Archie thought for a minute then decided to get on the net and see if he could find out anything about this Shishi, before he went any further. ------- Al could hear the phone ringing. He knew it was the phone, but he didn't know what to do about. His sleep fogged mind told him to answer it, but he wasn't quite sure how. Finally he came awake enough to pick up the phone and hit the on button. "Hello." "Hi, Al. I just wanted to let you know we got down here." It was Linda. He glanced at the bedside clock. It was showing 11:30 PM. "Oh, hi Linda. Good. It's good to know you guys are safe." "What happened when we were leaving? I saw the black car, then Lt. Slavens took off after it. We just kept on, but it's been driving me crazy ever since." Yawning, Al filled her in on the car chase and the end of the black Honda. "Linda, do you have access to a computer?" "Sure. Why?" "There are some things I need to talk to you about, and I don't want to do it over the phone. I thought a computer might be best." "Why not talk in person, Al? I'll be back up there late tomorrow afternoon." Al could feel a cold hand grip his stomach. "What do you mean? We agreed that you'd stay down there a couple of weeks." "No, Al. I agreed I'd leave the girls down here a couple of weeks. I have no intention of letting these guys run me off. Besides, I think I can help. There's no use arguing, so just shut up." Al became aware that he was gripping the phone and slowly tried to relax. Linda sounded as stubborn as Sam had been at times. "OK, I guess I can't control you, but please be careful. I'll get Art to give you some protection if possible. If not, maybe you could move in here for a few days. It's a fortress now." "Al, I'll be fine. I'm not going to stay at the house anyway. Mom and Dad offered to let me stay with them." Al felt a little relieved. He knew Linda's parents, not well, but well enough to know that her fathers military background would come in handy. He was a no nonsense kind of guy, who was probably good at protecting his family. "OK, Linda, let me know when you get in. I really do need to talk with you." She wondered what Al wanted so badly, but decided not to push it. "Good night, Al. I'll see you tomorrow." "Good night, Linda." Al had composed himself and was just dozing off when the phone rang again. What the hell? He punched the phone. "Al Green speaking." A soft feminine voice seemed to purr in his ear. "I hope you don't mind that I called so late. I just wanted to know if Linda had made it to her friend's house safely" Al smiled sleepily to himself as he recognized the sexy voice in his ear. "Yes, she did. As a matter of fact she just called to let me know." "I'm glad. I know I haven't known her long, but she seems very nice. The two girls are darlings. If I ever have kids I hope they'll be as well mannered and polite." Unable to control himself, Al smiled. This was a subject he really enjoyed. The girls were the greatest kids on earth in his mind, and he was proud as a peacock when someone else noticed. For an instant the thought went through his mind that Bonnie might have an ulterior motive for saying what she did, but he tried not to judge her. He spent several minutes telling her how smart and beautiful his nieces were before he realized he was sounding like a proud grandparent. He was a little embarrassed, but Bonnie didn't let on that she knew. "Bonnie, I really am sorry about what happened at the Hospital. I trust both Art and Linda, and they both trust you. It seems foolish of me not to trust you as well." When he finally slowed down, Bonnie yawned and told him she had better get to sleep. "You know, I'm sorry about everything at the hospital too. You seem like a nice guy, Al. I think I'd like you for a friend." "In that case, why don't you come over tomorrow. We could fix some lunch and I'll fill you in on everything I know about this mess. That is, if your promise is still in effect that you won't print anything until I say so." Bonnie assured him that the promise was still in effect, and they said goodnight. ------- Tuesday, August 14, 2035, PM Al was awakened around 8:00 AM by the phone. As he stretched and yawned, he wondered how his body could feel so good, so soon after the beating he had taken. There was no more soreness in his chest, or anywhere for that matter. "Al Green speaking." "Al, this is Art. I just got a call from Modern Electronics. They were shut down yesterday because of the funeral and today was the first day back to work since Friday. The secretary gets in early and she found the place had been trashed." "Oh God. Anything missing? "I haven't heard yet. We've got a crew checking it out, then they'll go over everything with the secretary. I'll let you know what I find out. From what I've heard, there is very little security at Modern. I think you should get some Pinkertons in there at least." "It's a little late for that now, Art." "Not really. They didn't find what they were looking for, so they might be back. If they don't find it, they might try to destroy it." "That makes sense. I'll call Marge when I hang up here, and have her set it up. You think Pinkerton is the company to go with?" "They're the oldest, and still the best security company around. They'd be the ones I'd use." "OK, Art, thanks. I'll be out for a while, so just leave a message on the machine if you need me. I'm on my way to get a rental car. See ya later guy." Al called Marge and had her arrange for four security men to be there 24 hours a day. She didn't question it, or question his authority. He showered, shaved, and then called a taxi. By the time he was dressed, the security system announced that it had arrived. It was a short drive to the rental car company, and Al used the time to muse over the latest piece of information from Lt. Slavens. "We should have expected a break-in," he thought. "If we'd been a little smarter, maybe we could've caught them." He'd have to talk to Slavens about that and other things. The rental process was quick, and he was soon heading for home. He rented the highest-powered vehicle, but it was nothing compared to his sports car. The handling was wrong, and the acceleration was totally inadequate. Well, at least it'd get him home. He had some research to do before Bonnie arrived. He thought of Bonnie's call last night and smiled. He'd been smiling a lot since he'd met her. It seemed almost a betrayal to Sam that he was becoming so attached to someone so soon after Sam's death, but knew that Sam would want him to go on with life and be happy. It was after noon when Bonnie arrived. Al greeted her like an old friend, and they fell into a comfortable conversation. They worked together to prepare a quick meal. Al was surprised at how well they complemented each other. On the rare occasions that he and Paula, his part-time girlfriend, had worked on a meal together, they had been in each other's way, and it usually ended with one of them giving up and letting the other finish. This time it took only a few minutes to fix a quick meal, and they worked in perfect harmony. They decided to retire to the couch to eat, so Al turned on the local news. Sure enough, the high-speed chase by the police was mentioned. The camera crew had arrived too late for pictures of the fireball that had engulfed the two vehicles, but they did show the burned out hulks. No mention was made of passengers in the chasing patrol car, nor was Lt. Slavens mentioned by name. The report said that the two men in the Honda had not been identified as yet. Al and Bonnie discussed the chase as they finished their late lunch. Al took the dishes back to the kitchen, then again sat beside Bonnie. They chatted comfortably, and soon they were talking as if they had known each other for years. The attraction he felt for Bonnie the day before was back, even stronger. The thought of kissing her crossed his mind. Bonnie was gazing into his eyes and must have known exactly what he was thinking. Al had just reached to take her hand when the security console announced a visitor. He reluctantly extricated himself from the couch and went to the security console. "Damn! It's Art." He could hear Bonnie's laughter as he angrily punched the button to open the door. By the time Art was at the door of the apartment, Al had regained his composure. Bonnie was standing beside him when Art came in the door carrying a small package. "You here again? I'm surprised you didn't run off to file a story about the chase." "Artemis Slavens, you know I wouldn't do that. You could have gotten in a world of trouble if it became known you had civilians with you during the chase." Art frowned at Bonnie. "Don't call me Artemis. Speaking of trouble, I have a little present for you Al. If it came out I gave you this, it could mean my badge. Keep it quiet, OK?" Then, to Bonnie, "You never saw this, lady." With that, he handed the package to Al. It was surprisingly heavy for it's size. He pulled off the string securing the package, then opened it. Inside was a 9mm Smith & Wesson automatic, and a box of shells. Al started to protest, but Art cut him off. "No back talk, buddy. You might need this. I won't tell you how I happen to have this, but it is unregistered, and has never been used in a crime. If you have to dump it, it can't be traced back to me." "But Art, I've never even shot one of these. I wouldn't know where to start." Art took the gun in his competent hands. First he popped the clip out and checked the loading. He then snapped the clip back into place, and pulled back and released the slide. "There are nine shots in here, Al. When I pulled back the slide, I moved one into the chamber. You only have to do that once for each clip. This little hickey here is the safety. Move it this way and it's ready to fire. Move it this way, and it's safe as a church." "Yeah, but, I don't even know how to aim one." Slavens grinned. He sensed that he had Al's interest. "This one's easy, pal. It's got a laser sight. Point it toward what you want to shoot, and pull the trigger half way back. See the red dot on the wall over there? That's where the bullet would hit if I finished squeezing the trigger. Just remember to squeeze, don't pull, the trigger." Art handed the weapon back to Al. He turned it over in his hands a couple of times, then pointed it at the security console. He smiled when the red dot appeared in the middle of the screen. "I never did like that thing. It always interrupts at the wrong time." Al could hear Bonnie's giggle, quickly stifled. Evidently Art heard it too. He looked confused for a moment, then turned as red as a desert sunset. "Well uh... I uh... I guess I'd better be getting out of here. Lots of things to get done..." Now Bonnie broke out laughing in earnest. "For God's sake, Art. Put a sock in it. Now that you're here, you can fill us in on everything that's happening." Al looked disappointed, but couldn't argue with her logic. The moment had passed. Next time he would be sure they wouldn't be interrupted. That is if there was a next time. Al filled Art in on all that had been happening with his and Hak's computer sleuthing. He described the problems they were having with saving the files Hak had copied from the Japanese computers. He told Art about the dihedrons being made by one of the companies they were investigating. He told them of his intention to start tomorrow morning, learning as much as he could about the dihedrons and how they are made. "Are you an expert on computer hardware?" Art asked. "No, but I do know generally how they work. I have to in order to program computer games. I also know a lot of people who are computer hardware experts." "You know," Bonnie said. "There are just too many similarities between what's happening to Al and the other murders I'm investigating. I think that if we find out who killed Al's brother, we can clear up several unsolved murders." Bonnie hesitated for a moment and took a sip of her coffee. "I did some digging this morning, using the information that Linda was able to find. All the murder victims had been contacted by companies that were on the list that she gave me." "I don't think there is any doubt that there is a Japanese connection," Art nodded. "Proving it will be a lot harder though." "You're right there," Al agreed. "They have covered their tracks so well it would be difficult to even explain it to a jury, let alone convince them beyond a reasonable doubt." "You think there might be something more here than just wanting to grab up the businesses for a quick profit?" Art asked. "You know, I've been giving that a lot of thought. I suspect there is, but that would be even harder to prove than murder for profit," Bonnie agreed. Dinnertime came and went. Al finally realized he was famished and ordered Chinese food for everyone. Over the meal they discussed many things, but nothing concerning Sam's murder or any of the related happenings. It was as if by mutual agreement they avoided these subjects completely. Al was starting to become concerned about Linda when the phone rang. It was Linda, and she informed him that she had gotten a late start, and had just arrived at her parents' house. Al told her to get some rest and that he'd see her tomorrow. The conversation never really picked up after the phone call. Reality had again intruded like an unwanted house guest. They were each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Art told them that he had better get back to work. He offered Bonnie a ride home. She gladly accepted and they began their preparations for leaving. After Bonnie had gathered up her things, Al walked them out to Slavens vehicle. He went around to the passenger side and opened the door for Bonnie. She winked at Al as she entered the vehicle. Hmmmm Al mused. Maybe there would be a next time. Al had just closed the door of his apartment when he heard one of his computers yelling. "Hey boss, you have an urgent transmission coming in. Hey boss, you have an urgent transmission coming in. Hey boss, you have..." Each repetition got louder, until he reached the machine and cut it off. He sat down and looked at the screen. It was a message from Hak. >>Yeah, Hak, what's up? >> >>Hey, man. I almost was up. Up the creek. I just had the scare of my life. >> >>What happened, Hak? >> >>Well, I was doing some more checking on Hiroshima LTD. I almost got caught. >> >>What happened for Pete's sake? >> he asked excitedly. >>You know when you're checking out something and don't want anyone to know where you're from, you go through a buncha dummies? >> >>Yeah, Hak. >> Al figured he might as well let Hak tell this in his own way. >>Well, I started out going in the computer at the hospital. I got a modem line from there, and went to the USC computer. I got a modem line outa there and got into the University of Michigan computer. I had twelve links set up before I got in the Hiroshima computer. >> >>Sounds good, Hak. I don't usually use that many links, but I do it the same way. >> >>Man, I'm glad I used that many tonight. I usually only use three or four links. They'd of had me for sure if I only used that many this time. >> >>So, again, Hak, what happened? >> >>Well, I've got this program that lets me know if someone's trying to trace me. They got through six links before the program even twigged then another two before I got them cut off. Too close for comfort. >> >>This anti trace program you're using, is it one you wrote? >> >>No, man. I got it from RAPMAN. Probably should write my own. I will after this. >> >>Don't bother Hak. I've got a beauty I wrote. Not only anti-trace, but sets up your links for you. All you have to do is tell it how many links you want, then select them from a list. It does all the dialing, and you can add all your own links to the source file. I'll download it when we're finished. >> >>Sounds good, man. At least I got something before they busted me. >> >>What? >> >>I found another one of those encrypted files. All of the others had been in the same subdirectory. This one was off by itself. You had to have the right codes just to see the file. >> >>Any idea what's in it? >> >>Not yet, but I'm working on it. Think I know what they're doing, so I set up a program to try all possible encryption words based off of this scheme. It notifies me if it runs the encryption, then recognizes a word in the file. >> >>Sounds great. How long has it been running? >> >>Just a couple of hours. I already had a coupla false alarms. Got it working offa numbers now. May have to switch to alphanumeric. Take forever if I do. >> >>OK, Hak. It's after ten already. I have to get some sleep tonight. Talk to you tomorrow. >> >>You want me to call when I get something? >> >>Yeah, sure. Goodnight, Hak. >> >>See you man. >> Before he started getting ready for bed, Al decided to call Bonnie and bring her up to date on what Hak had found out. She answered on the first ring. After Al had told her about his conversation with Hak, and about the research he was planning to do the next day, Bonnie said excitedly, "I know it's not ladylike to ask, but would you mind if I came over tomorrow and helped you with your research?" Al thought for a moment, then agreed. "Wow!" he mused. "We sure are spending a lot of time together. I hope we're not getting into something too fast." He didn't say this to Bonnie though. He was too excited by the thought of seeing her again to risk scaring her off. Al called Linda and asked her to come over the next day to go over what all they'd found, and to possibly work a little on the interlocking companies they'd discovered. She was more than willing. One day with her parents was about all she could handle without a break. ------- Chapter 9 Wednesday, August 15, 2035, AM The first thing Al did upon waking was to call Modern Electronics. He talked briefly with Marge. She was very sympathetic, and Al knew she was truly grieving over Sam's death. She told him the security men were in place, and that she had given them special instructions to be on the lookout for arsonists and the like. Al asked to speak with Edison Jones. When Jones came on line, Al asked him what he knew about the structure of the dihedrons. Jones launched into a description of the manufacturing of dihedrons, and had been running on for some time when Al stopped him. "Maybe I should just explain to you what I'm interested in," he said. He then went on to explain about the files Hak had found that could not be saved to the dihedrons. He told Jones his theory that there might be something in the dihedron itself that prevented files, encrypted in a particular manner, from being saved. Jones thought for a few seconds then said, "I've never heard of anything like that, but I guess it's possible. We've tried to break down the boot records of dihedrons many times, but have never had any luck. I'll tell you what I'll do. If you think this is really important, I'll start a couple of people working on it. Maybe we can find something now that we know what we are looking for." They hung up after exchanging some pleasantries with Jones promising to get people on the problem right away. Al started one of his computers and went on the Internet in search of information on dihedrons. He had been following leads and checking out web pages for over an hour when a security system announced that someone was at the door. When he look at the screen on the door console, he thought his heart skipped a beat. There was Bonnie holding two large bags. After he had let her in, she explained that she was making lunch for him today. He didn't argue, but went back to his computer, and continued his investigation. Before long, he could detect wonderful smells coming from the kitchen area. When he started to go over to see what was cooking, Bonnie sent him back and told him to stay put until she was finished. He didn't have long to wait, but the wonderful smells made it seem like forever. Bonnie finally came over, took his hand, and led him to the dining table. On his plate was one of the lightest, fluffiest omelets he had ever seen or tasted. It seemed to melt in his mouth. Beside it were fresh baked crescent rolls and lean Canadian bacon. "One more reason to like this lady," he thought. After they had eaten, and had cleaned up the dishes together, Al showed Bonnie what he had been working on. He set up one of his other computers for her, then left her to decide which direction she would take. They worked quietly for a couple of hours, occasionally exchanging small talk, but generally too enthralled in what they were doing to pay much attention to each other. Finally Bonnie spoke up. "Now this is interesting," she said. "I've been doing some research into non technical aspects of dihedrons. Did you know that there had been several lawsuits brought against Mitsutronics about dihedrons?" "No I didn't," Al looked perplexed. "What were these lawsuits about?" "Most are antitrust lawsuits. Some are about whether Mitsutronics has the right to force all computer manufacturers to use the Mitsutronics operating system. Could this not being able to save files to one of the dihedrons have something to do with the operating system?" "Yes, I would say it could," answered Al. "That has been what I have been thinking about, but so far I haven't been able to find anything in what I've been reading. Why don't you look into the specifics of the suits. Maybe there's some language there that will give us a better idea of what to look for. " "OK, but why don't we put this away for a little while. Let's get something to drink, and then just talk. I could really use a break right now." she said. She smiled at Al, not wanting to admit to herself she liked being around this man. "Suits me," Al said as he walked into the kitchen area. "You first though. How did you get so good at computers? I know reporters use them in their work, but I thought they used mostly word processing programs. When you were talking with Hak, you seem to know exactly what he was talking about, and even gave him some suggestions." Bonnie filled him in on part of her life's history as they sipped cold sodas and nibbled on some cookies Al found in one of his cabinets. She was the second child of two very intelligent people. Her mother was a surgeon, and her father was a systems manager for one of the largest computer software developers in the country. The house where she grew up was full of computers. Her mother was always working on a report or an article for one of the surgical publications. Her father never brought his work home with him, but he was always on the computer playing or developing software of his own. Her older brother was the ultimate computer nerd. He was writing his own games by the time he was twelve, and was now developing the latest in computer hardware. Both her two brothers and her father taught her about computers from a very early age. Later, she suspected they were only trying to get rid of her so they could do their own thing. Then, when she became a journalist, it was only natural to hone her skills even further. "You know I even got in trouble once, Al." she grinned at him. Al looked surprised. "You did? What happened?" "Well, I was about sixteen, and curious to see if I was as good as I thought I was. I broke into the database at the company my father worked for. I had no idea they had traced me until my father sat me down that evening and read me the riot act. He told me the only reason I wasn't in jail was because he was a manager there. He scared the pants off me." "That must have been a sight to see," Al said with a leer, as he let his eyes roam up and down her legs. "Let's see... I'm trying to picture it in my mind" Al dodged the cookie Bonnie threw at him and broke up laughing. He could see the feigned look of anger on her face, but he could also see the sparkle of laughter in her eyes. "OK buster, keep your imagination to yourself," Bonnie said as she went to gather up the pieces of the cookie she had thrown. "Your turn now. I've seen your Dad, and I know he's a professor at Berkley. I know about Sam. Did you have a mother, or were you spawned by a wolf?" "Yes, I had a mother. She died when I was seventeen. Sam was fourteen at the time. I went off to college that fall, and never really felt like dad's place was home. I never spent much time around him after that. He never approved of what I was doing, no matter how successful I became. He always had this idea that I should be in business, or a professor at some university. He thought computer games were for kids, and anyone associated with them was just wasting his time." "Mom was a wonderful person. She was a stay at home mom, always looking after her husband and her sons. Until I was in high school, I can never remember coming home to an empty house. There were always good solid meals on the table, and always a hug if I skinned my knee." "There were good times with dad too. He was always taking us camping, or on weekend outings to see some historic or interesting place. He never did do any rough-and-tumble with us. He did teach us how to play chess though and he read to us and took us to movies." "Mom's death was harder on Sam. He was younger for one thing, then the same year, I went away to college. He basically lost two of the three most important people in his life in the same year." "I'm sorry Al," Bonnie said, looking downcast. "I didn't mean to make light of your mother's death. I know it must have been very hard on you too." "That's OK, Bonnie. I knew you weren't making fun or anything. I've opened my mouth and inserted my foot on many occasions myself." Bonnie looked a little nervous before she asked her next question. "So, do you have a girlfriend?" Al was startled that Bonnie would ask him such a question, but was glad she did. "Not really, I have a sort of some time girlfriend. She's a photographer for one of the major magazines, and she's on location most of the time. When she's in town we try to get together, but lately we haven't been trying very hard. We talked it over a while back, and both of us agreed to keep it casual. What about you, any men in your life?" "No, I'm afraid not. I've about sworn off boyfriends. My father died a few years ago, and my brothers have all moved out of the area. One is an investment broker on Wall Street, and the other is working on alternative power sources in Arizona." He didn't notice the enigmatic smile Bonnie was trying to hide, because the door console announced another visitor. Mumbling to himself, he went to see who was there. ------- Al was glad to see Linda at the door. He buzzed her in, and gave her a big hug when she entered. If Linda was surprised to see Bonnie there, she didn't let on. She told them about her trip to San Diego, and about the day she spent with her mother and father. Al quickly filled her in the on what they had been doing and asked if she would like to start doing some research on the company's that Hak had been digging into. She was more than willing. She wanted to make a contribution. She wanted more than anything to find and punish the people responsible for killing her husband. They decided that the first thing to do was call Hak to see if he'd found anything out. Hak was in a rare mood when they called him. He described in detail what he'd been doing and what he'd found out. Al told him they'd work on the list of names, and he sent it to them. After four hours of work, they managed to get official biographies on the top five men on the list. They'd gone over the chart of interlocking companies that Linda had put together, and were not surprised that the top five names on the list were the controlling influences in the five largest companies on the chart. They decided to put this aside for Linda to look at, and started digging into the word Shishi. The only thing they could find on it were references to an ancient Samurai sect of that name. They picked the best of the references, which described the Shishi as being radically anti-foreign, and printed it out. It was now after 8:00 in the evening. None of them had heard from Art Slavens since early morning. Al thought briefly about trying to call him, but they decided that he must be busy and they didn't want to disturb him. Bonnie and Linda decided to call it a night. As Al was walking them down to their cars, Bonnie took his hand. She gave him a quick peck on the lips as he opened the car door for her. As Bonnie was driving off, he gave Linda another big hug. "Are we going to get together again tomorrow," he asked. "I suppose so," Linda said with a big smile. "Unless you'd rather be alone." "What do you mean?," Al blushed, feigning ignorance. Linda reached up and pecked Al on the cheek. "Uh huh." was all she said as she climbed into her car. Al raked his hands through his hair. You can't keep anything from a woman he groaned. ------- Al was awakened about a half-hour later by the phone. As he came awake, he thought to himself, "I'm going to start storing this thing in a bucket of water," he grumbled. "Hello," he mumbled into the receiver. Bonnie was upset, and nearly hysterical. "Al, someone followed me home," she gasped. "I've locked and bolted the doors, but I'm scared to death. The car was just like the one we chased." Al was fully awake and all business. "Give me directions to your apartment, then call Slavens. I'll be there as soon as I can." He was dressing even as he listened to Bonnie's directions. It took him only seconds to finish, grab the gun Art had given him, and run down the fire stairs. The drive that had taken Bonnie nearly a half-hour took Al only twenty minutes. It was the longest 20 minutes of his life. The rental car, though fully charged, was nothing like his sports car. He cursed it with every curve and every time he needed to accelerate. The freeways were as clear as they ever got in the bay area, but he found himself weaving in and out of traffic. When he finally arrived at Bonnie's apartment building, he scanned the parking lot for a black Honda, but saw none. Her apartment was in a secure building, so he had to activate the call for her apartment and wait while she checked the monitor before she opened the outer door. Bonnie's apartment was on the third floor, but instead of waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs two at a time until he reached her floor. He was slightly disoriented when he burst through the door on her landing, but it only took him seconds to determine the direction to her apartment, and sprint down the hall. He knocked on the door, rather than ring the bell, then looked directly into the security camera so there could be no doubt as to who he was. Bonnie opened the door immediately and pulled him into the room. Before anything else, Al slammed and locked the door. He then took Bonnie in his arms, and held her as if he were afraid she was going to run away. They stood that way for a couple of minutes, each taking comfort from the other, then the outer door alarm sounded again, making them both jump. It was Slavens. Bonnie actuated the outside door, and they could see Art striding through with an air of purpose that would have stopped anyone from interfering with him. When they heard the inside door alarm, Al opened the door. So far neither he nor Bonnie had said a word since his arrival. Slavens looked shocked to see Al. "OK, guys, what's going on? You didn't tell me Al was here." Al was the first to respond. "I just got here, Art, and Bonnie hasn't told me a thing yet. She called me the same time she called you." Bonnie looked at both men with gratitude. "Art, you know I'm no sissy. I can take care of myself. Something about being followed spooked me. I was probably safe enough, but for some reason, I panicked." Art took in the fact that Al had his arm around Bonnie, and smiled an inner smile that the others couldn't see. "Why don't you tell us what happened, Bonnie, but first, let's sit down. It's been a long day." This was Al's first time in Bonnie's apartment, and he was all eyes as they went into her living room and sat down. The sofa he and Bonnie sat on was of a dark leather, unfashionable in this age, but comfortable and serviceable. Slavens took a seat in an arm chair, also dark leather, that was overstuffed, and inviting. The dark leather was in sharp contrast to the nearly white carpet, and startlingly white walls of the room. A few tasteful art prints broke the stark white of the walls, and Al's were immediately attracted to the massive grandfather's clock that stood opposite him. Bonnie looked Art directly in the eyes, defiantly. "OK. I was at Al's place most of the day. I left there about an hour ago, and I noticed a pair of headlights come on about half way up the block from Al's warehouse. That's a pretty deserted part of town at that time of night, so it bothered me a little. You know where that four way stop is, about four blocks from Al's?" When they nodded, she went on. "There's a bright street light right at the intersection. I pretended to be fumbling for something in my purse, and waited until the car caught up with me. It was a black Honda, just like the one we chased. I started to panic, and hit the accelerator. It's only two more blocks to the freeway, and by the time I hit the on ramp I was doing sixty. The car stayed with me. I ran up to nearly eighty on the freeway, but I could always see the car behind me. I knew I didn't have the speed to outrun it, so I figured the best thing to do was just to get home and call you guys." Art looked a little puzzled. "Why didn't you call from the car?" Bonnie was a little embarrassed, and her face flushed as she answered. "I know it's uncharacteristic of me, Art, but I forgot I had a cell phone." Al put his arm around her again, and she snuggled in close. "Before you ask, Art. I didn't get a license number and I can't describe the two men who were in the car. They were either men or women with short haircuts. To me they were just silhouettes." Art could see the way things were between the two people on the couch, and wondered if he felt a little jealousy. Probably not, he decided. He had always liked Bonnie, but he had always felt more like a brother to her than a lover. He liked them both, and was kind of happy to see them together. He wondered if they knew how transparent they were to him, and decided that it was probably that they trusted him. "Well, Bonnie. I checked out the parking lot before I came in and there isn't a black Honda to be found. I'd say they just wanted to find out who you were and where you lived." Bonnie gave him a troubled look. "That's comforting' Art," she said ironically. "That sure makes me feel safe and secure." "You are in a secure building, Bonnie, and I don't think you're in any immediate danger. Just bolt your door and you should be safe enough." Al had been silent through this exchange. He started to say something, but Bonnie beat him to it. "I'm not staying here tonight, Art. I'm going back to Al's." she said, inviting herself. She turned to Al. "Is that alright with you?" she asked, realizing what she had just done was totally unladylike. Art laughed. "Do you have my little present, Al?" Al looked a little sheepish as he pulled the automatic from his pocket and showed it to Art. Bonnie had said what he was going to say. There was no way he was going to let her stay here tonight. Art nodded and got up to leave. As Al walked him to the door, he said quietly, "Take care of her Al. I don't mean just tonight. I like this lady. Don't hurt her." "That's the furthest thing from my mind, Art. You were right. She is good people." They shook hands at the door, and Art left. Al looked around the apartment as Bonnie threw a few things in an overnight bag. They were soon in the elevator, hand in hand. As they exited the building, Al asked her if she wanted to take her car, with him following. "No way. I don't want to be alone, even for a few minutes." They were soon in the rental car heading toward Al's when he noticed a car following. He was just starting to panic, when the car suddenly sped up and pulled along side. It was Art. He waved and dropped back, far enough to keep them in sight, but leave the impression he wasn't with them if someone else decided to follow. He was with them all the way to Al's apartment, and didn't leave until he saw they were safely inside. Bonnie and Al didn't say much during the drive, but she gripped his hand as if her life depended on it. She had never been so frightened in all her life. Her insides felt like jelly, and she was extremely thankful for the man sitting beside her. When they entered the apartment, Al was relieved to see that everything was the same as he'd left it. Al busied himself around the apartment for a few minutes, then went to sit beside Bonnie on the couch. He put his arm around her and she snuggled close. They sat that way for quite a while, then Al suggested they get some sleep. He told her that he would sleep on the couch, and that she can have his bed in the loft. "No way, Al, for one thing you're too long for this couch. For another thing, if I were up in the loft, and you were down here, I would feel like I was totally alone. I don't want to feel that way right now. We're both adults, and I'm sure we could keep our hands of each other if we slept in the same bed." After a little argument Al agreed. He stripped down to his boxer shorts, while Bonnie went into the bathroom to change into a nightgown. When she climbed into bed with him, she lay on her side of the bed. The talked for a few minutes, then Al turned out the light. She rolled over and put her arms around him. He put his arms around her, and they laid that way until they fell asleep. ------- Thursday, August 16, 2035, AM Obi hunched down as the lights of yet another car lighted up the interior of his minivan. He had thought by this time of night the industrial access road he was parked on would be totally deserted. If there was one word that could be used to describe Obi, it was patient. During the daylight hours yesterday, he had set for three hours, watching the road and the wide parking lot from his present position. A chain link fence surrounded three sides of the building. It started at one corner and ran perpendicular to the building for about 70 meters, then made a 90 degree left turn and ran for at least a hundred meters past the other end of the structure. The parking lot was roughly a rectangle, with the long side parallel to the access road where Obi was now parked. The lot was old and not in the best of condition. Areas of it were concrete, other areas had once had asphalt paving, and still others were bare-earth. Clumps of grass and some tall weeds had forced their way between the cracks and eked out a precarious existence. When the interior of the minivan had again darkened, Obi peeked over the dash, and saw no other vehicles approaching. He checked the rear and again saw only darkness. He gently opened the passenger side of the vehicle, and rolled out beside it. He had previously removed the interior light bulb entirely so it wouldn't give him away, and when he closed the door, he did so with a gentle push that only actuated the first latch, which he had padded with a bit of cloth. Even though there wasn't anyone around to see, Obi crawled through the drainage ditch that was between him and the fence. The second best word to describe Obi was cautious. When he arrived at the fence, Obi turned left toward a clump of bushes he had observed earlier. The bushes grew right up against the fence, and extended into the ditch. Obi wormed his way into the bushes, and only rose to a kneeling position when he felt the cold links of the fence. Obi reached into a specially made pocket on the left leg of his dark coveralls and retrieved a small pair of bolt cutters. He had padded the jaws of the cutters so they would make no noise. He then selected one vertical link in the fence, and cut it at ground level and again at eye level. He grasped the link, and with a motion not unlike removing a screw, removed it from those on either side of it. When he was finished, he had an opening that was an inverted "v" that he could easily crawl through. Obi proceeded through the opening in the fence with even greater caution than he had exhibited to this point. He knew he could never explain his presence in the old lot if the police happened to see him. He slid along the inside of the fence like a shadow man, with no more substance than a dream. It took less than a minute for him to reach the corner of the building, but it seemed like hours. His senses were alert for every sound and smell. The back of the warehouse was in deep shadow, and Obi felt more secure as he edged along toward a window he had checked out earlier with his high powered binoculars. It was a standard casement window, made to open to allow ventilation for the workers who had not been in the building for years. When he reached the window, he first removed a small can of penetrating oil from another pocket, and oiled the hinges. Replacing the oil, he removed a glasscutter, and a suction cop, along with a paper towel to clean the area of the glass he was fixing the suction cup to. There was only the slightest sound, like cloth being gently torn, as he eased the cutter in a circle. He then gave a gentle tap on the glass and used the suction cup to remove the glass circlet. Obi eased his hand through the hole in the glass, and opened the window lock. He pulled gently on the window and was rewarded with a nearly silent movement of the old mechanism. The penetrating oil had worked perfectly. In seconds he was pulling himself through the waist high opening, with all the silence of a big cat stalking its prey. In a way that's what he was. He knew that getting into the warehouse was the easy part. He had studied the blueprints of the old building for hours, and knew where every structural member was located. He also knew that it would be easy getting to the second floor, which was his ultimate destination. He also knew that the second floor had been changed extensively, and he did not know the particulars of what had been done, except that a lot of security measures had been added. Obi had decided earlier that the maintenance room, above the elevator shaft was probably his best bet. The room was above the second floor apartment, and originally had an access door to the apartment area. He moved toward the stairway as silent as a mouse. He never even felt the blow to the back of his head that took away his consciousness. ------- Al awoke feeling more calm and relaxed than he had in a long time. The bed was bathed in bright morning sunlight from the skylight overhead. He looked across at Bonnie, sleeping beside him, and smiled. He spent several minutes just watching her sleep. Finally she stirred an opened her eyes. "Good morning," she said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?" Al reached over and took her hand. "I certainly did, how about you?" "I slept like a baby. Thank you for holding me last night. I don't think I could've gotten to sleep at all." "I'd volunteer for that job any time you'd like," he smiled. He leaned toward her, and gently kissed her. It started as a gentle kiss, but as it went on, longer, and longer, it became more and more passionate. Their arms went around each other and they molded their bodies together. Al was stroking her hair and her back, and Bonnie was responding in kind. He gently caressed the well-rounded buttocks he had been admiring over the last few days, and he felt Bonnie's hand on his own. Finally, they broke apart. "You know," she breathed, "It's been a long time since I've been with a man. I never thought I'd want to be with one again. I never thought I could trust one enough to give myself to him, especially after as short a time as I've known you, but I trust you, Al Green." "I've never entered into relationships easily either." he said, raising her hand to his lips, kissing soft warm skin. "I don't believe in casual sex. I may be old fashioned, but I think there should be a bond between people before they take that step." He leaned toward her, gently brushing her lips with his, then planting small kisses across her face, and then her neck. Bonnie gasped and leaned into the kisses. The security console picked that moment to announce that someone was at the door. "Not again!" Al screamed. ------- Chapter 10 Bonnie groaned and her arms fell limply away from their bodies. Al got up from the bed and hastily pulled on his pants. He made his way down to the security console, and saw Art Slavens waiting patiently. He buzzed the door open and yelled to Bonnie that it was Art. By the time Art had gotten to the inside door, Bonnie was standing beside Al, wearing one of his old bathrobes. After saying hello, Bonnie went into the kitchen and started preparing an old fashioned breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast. "You guys owe me big time," Art said, exuding smugness. "When Bonnie gets back I'll tell you why." Art took in Al's bare chest and leered, "I'd have thought you guys would have been up hours ago. You aren't even dressed yet." "To be honest with you, Art, we weren't paying much attention to the time. It's the first time I've been able to sleep in since I don't know when. Now, get your mind out of the gutter and tell us why we owe you." Bonnie called them into the dining area for breakfast. After they were seated at the table, large plates of food in front of them, Art started talking. "Well, guy and gal, you owe me because I saved your bacon again last night. After you guys were already sawing logs, I was doing my job, and it paid off." Al became suddenly thoughtful, and a glance at Bonnie showed him she felt the same. "Maybe you'd better tell us the whole story, Art." Bonnie offered. "I decided to hang around a while after you guys went in last night. I went into the warehouse downstairs and found a comfortable resting-place. I had almost dozed off when I heard this tiny scraping noise. I didn't know what it was, but I practically stopped breathing trying to find out where it was coming from. It was near the back of the warehouse, and I was near the stairs, so I decided to wait and see if it came closer. I thought I heard a window opening, but couldn't be sure, so I just waited. Pretty soon, this Japanese guy comes creeping past on his way to the stairs." Al looked at Bonnie. Her eyes were wide and her mouth looked like she was about to scream. "You mean this guy was actually in the warehouse down stairs?" Al asked incredulously. "He sure was," Art continued. "I let him get to the foot of the stairs, then hit him along the base of the skull with my automatic. He went down like a sack of potatoes." "Why was he here?" "Well, he hasn't said anything yet, but I think it's obvious. He was dressed in black. He had cut a hole in one of the back windows of the warehouse to gain entry. He had a knife, a silenced gun, throwing stars, and a complete set of burglary tools on him. We later found his car on the access road behind the warehouse, and it was stolen. He also had a small can of what we thought at first was Mace, but it turned out to be something far more deadly, and almost totally untraceable in a corpse. I think it's pretty evident that he was planning an early demise for you, Al. I really don't think he expected Bonnie to be here, but he would have done her in as well if he had made it all the way in." "What makes you think he didn't expect Bonnie to be here?" "The neat stuff he had in the spray can makes it look like someone died of a heart attack. If you had been alone he would have sneaked in, used the gas, and the police would have hardly investigated at all. Bonnie would have complicated things, but he would have probably staged a robbery gone sour. You have no idea how many people get offed every year when they catch someone doing something they shouldn't be doing. Again, the police would have done a cursory investigation, but due to the case loads of most detectives, it would have been done mostly for show." Finally, Bonnie couldn't hold herself in any longer. "Not that I care what happened to the bastard, but why'd you hit him, without trying to arrest him?" "Well, you see, Bonnie my lass, I got to thinking about the two bastards who we were chasing, and how they killed themselves rather than allow themselves to be caught. I didn't want that to happen to this guy, so I slugged him so he couldn't off himself. You see, I was really doing him a favor." "You say he hasn't said anything yet, but has he called an attorney?" Bonnie asked. "No, we offered to have an attorney appointed, but he won't even comment on that. He could be out on bail in nothing flat if he got himself a shyster, but he hasn't made any move to get in touch with anyone. Maybe he thinks that whoever hired him'll get him out as soon as he turns up missing, or maybe he's afraid to get out. I don't know what's going on, but it sure is strange." Al had just opened his mouth to ask another question when the security console chimed again, indicating another visitor was at the door. "What the hell is this," he barked, "Grand Central Station?" he was a little less angry when he saw that it was Linda at the door. He buzzed her in the outside door, then waited until she had climbed the stairs and then opened the inner door for her. He gave her a quick hug, then took her over to where the others were seated. They have a lot to tell her, about Bonnie being followed the night before, and about the guy who had broken into the warehouse below. Linda looked stunned. "Won't these Bastards ever quit?" she gasped. "Haven't they done enough already? Why can't someone do something about them?" Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she was beginning to sound hysterical. Bonnie picked up on it at once, moved over beside her, and put an arm around her shoulder. Linda turned toward Bonnie, laid her head on her shoulder, and let out some of the grief she had been holding back. For a while it seemed as if she would cry forever, the sobbing finally began to subside. Bonnie had both arms around her now, and was stroking her back and patting her shoulders. Al and Art were both feeling uncomfortable, not knowing what to do or what to say. Al opened his mouth to say something, but Bonnie shook her head and he remained silent. Linda apologized for her outburst, but everyone assured her that they understood. They sat around a few minutes, talking about everything that had gone on, then Al said, "Linda, I'm going down to Modern Electronics in a little while, would you and Bonnie like to go with me?" Both of the ladies agreed to go with him. Bonnie went upstairs to take a quick shower and then dress. Al waited until she was finished, then showered and dressed himself. Art, wanted to get back to work, so he excused himself and left while Bonnie was showering. They kept the conversation light as they drove to the electronics company. When they arrived, Linda said it might be a good time to have a quick company meeting and let all of the employees know what was happening. Al really didn't want to waste the time it would take to have a meeting, but he let Linda convince them the employees would feel better if they knew the company was going to continue doing business, uninterrupted by the tragedy of the company president being killed. Linda went in search of Marge to set the meeting up. Twenty minutes later the entire shift was sitting in the conference room. They made the meeting short and sweet. Most of the people there already knew Linda and Al. Linda assured them there would be no changes in how the company was operated or in the command structure, except that she would now be president. They all seemed relieved and after the meeting was over most of them came forward to offer their condolences. Some of them asked why there were now security guards and Al explained this to them. Linda asked the senior company officers to go with her to one of the smaller conference rooms. When they left, Al and Bonnie went in search of Edison Jones. They found him in one of the labs, and Al motioned for him to come out into the hallway. Al introduced Bonnie to Edison, then asked, "Well, have you found anything out yet?" Jones shook his head ruefully. "Not much, I'm afraid. I have an entire crew working on it, but so far they haven't turned up anything." Al noticed that Jones seemed to be holding something back. "Is there something else bothering you?" Jones fidgeted for a moment, then said, "I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds Al. You never told me I couldn't, so I called a friend of mine at Mitsutronics." "Well I really wish you hadn't," Al said thoughtfully. "They might find out we're investigating them and that would be the end of our game. Tell me, what did he have to say?" "It's not a he. She says she may have something for you, but she wants to be paid for the information." Now, Jones was so distraught he was wringing his hands. "She won't give the information to me. She said she will only deal with you, and I have to warn you, she says she wants a lot of money." By now Al was shaking his head. "I'm not sure I would trust anyone from Mitsutronics, especially someone who's asking for money. I've learned a hard lesson about just meeting people whenever. The last time I did that it hurt like hell." he argued. He turned and looked at Bonnie. "What do you think?" "I'm not sure," Bonnie said thoughtfully. "Let's hear the rest of what Mr. Jones has to say." Al looked back at Edison Jones. "OK, Ed, why should I trust this lady?" Jones looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Well, you see, she's my cousin. She's a very bright woman, working for a really dumb boss. The only trouble is, she's not Japanese." Al looked skeptical. "What does not being Japanese have to do with anything?" Jones shuffled his feet and put his hands in his pocket. "At Mitsutronics, if you're not Japanese, you can only advance to a certain level. All of the upper level management, and all of the high level programmers are Japanese. She's tired of working her butt off so that her boss can get all the credit." Al glanced at Bonnie, then back at Jones. "How can I be sure you and her haven't cooked up a plan to rip us off for a chunk of cash?" Jones looked Al directly in the eye for the first time. "I'd never do that, Al. I thought too much of Sam to rip off his widow." Al glanced at Bonnie again, then nodded. "OK, how do I get in touch with your cousin?" Jones brightened noticeably. "Well... I meet her for lunch a couple of times a month. Would you like for me to see if she'll meet us today?" Bonnie answered before Al had a chance to demure. "I think that would be appropriate, Mr. Jones. Pick someplace where we can't be overheard. And if I were you I'd use a payphone to call her. They may be able to trace your call back to here and that would really get her into some trouble. We don't want to start something before it happens." Al was shaking his head as he said, "You're not going, Bonnie. This could be dangerous." Bonnie put her hands on her hips, jutted her chin out, and stared upward into Al's eyes. "Now listen hear, Mr. cave man, gonna protect the little woman, Green. If you go, I go. I thought I'd made that clear." "Yeah, I know we did, but that was before." he argued, raking his hand through his hair. Bonnie stared back at Al, watching as he uncomfortably stood his ground. "Really?" she asked, trying desperately to hide the smile she knew would give away a secret Al didn't dare tell anyone. Bonnie's heart smiled as well. She knew the secret. She took two steps toward Al and smiled at him. Al stared into the sea of green that always captivated him. She leaned into him and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'm going." was all she said. Al started to argue, but decided better. "OK, Ed, see if you can set it up." He turned to Bonnie and added, "I'll tell Linda we're leaving, and get one of the Pinkertons to take her home." ------- Al, Bonnie, and Edison Jones had been sitting in the small café near Mitsutronics for about five minutes when a tall, willowy blond came in. She spotted Edison in one of the back booths. The place was quiet, and no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. The woman's name was Katharine Jones. She had even features, and was pretty by some standards. She had a competent, no nonsense attitude and carried herself ramrod straight. After the food was served, they got down to business. "OK, Ms. Jones. What have you got to sell us and how much do you want for it?" Katharine seemed taken aback by the blunt question, but recovered quickly. "What I have, Mr. Green is the decrypted virus that is attached to every operating system of every computer in the US. What I want is a hundred thousand dollars and a job at Modern." Al looked shocked. "How could I trust you enough to give you a job at Modern when you're betraying the company you work for now?" Katharine looked him directly in the eye. "If a company is loyal to me, I will be loyal to it. I've worked very hard for Mitsutronics, and have been rewarded for it by being passed over for promotion because I am not Japanese. I had worked for the company for 10 years when my boss's position, Chief of Dihedron Manufacturing, came open. I was the only logical choice for the position. Instead, they put in a Japanese guy with only two years of experience, a bad work record, and a memory about as long as my little finger." She pushed her food around on her plate. "I know this sounds like sour grapes, but I don't know how else to put it. I guess I had never really noticed before then, but there are no Caucasian managers above a certain level at Mitsutronics. I realized then I could never advance any further. I talked to your brother about a job at modern, and he told me when they got the funding for the new polyhedrons, he would take me on. "OK, I know how you feel. If I gave you a job, it would have to be strictly probationary. If there was ever even the slightest suspicion in my mind that you were betraying our company, you would be out so fast it would make your head swim." Al stared at her, but her gaze never wavered. "And another thing, why do you think your information is worth a hundred thousand dollars and a job?" "That's understood Mr. Green, all I ask is to be judged on my abilities, not on my nationality. And to answer your question, the money is because I'm risking my life to give you this information. The job is my security for my future. I could never continue working at Mitsutronics after having stolen information from them. You know as well as I do that a hundred thousand dollars won't last long in this economy." Al nodded his head and went on, "So how did you find out about this virus as you call it?" Katharine gave him a small smile. "It was actually an accident," she said. "I had just gotten a new computer, not made by Mitsutronics, and I was checking out the system files. I always keep a record of when each system file was created, and the size of the file to protect myself against viruses." She took a sip of her water. "I then put in a dihedron to load in some personal files. When I came back to the system files area, I saw that one of the system files was now approximately 500 bytes longer than it had been before, but the file date hadn't changed. I went on-line, download the shorter file, and installed it. I took a clean dihedron, put it in, and did a directory search. The system file changed size again." When Kathryn stopped talking, Al motioned for her to go on. "I asked my boss about it the next day, and he told me it was just something to allow the operating system to read dihedrons more efficiently. I asked him if he had the code and his eyes flicked toward his safe. He told me he didn't have it, but I didn't believe him. I'm sure it's in that safe." Al looked skeptical. "If it's in his safe, how do you plan to get it out?" "That's the easy part. I told you this guy is a dummy. He can't even remember the combination of the safe. He keeps it written on a slip of paper under his desk pad." Bonnie burst in, speaking for the first time. "That is pretty dumb. How would you get it out of the company?" "If you guys go for this, I'll send you an e-mail with the code in it. I will be monitoring my bank account at 8:00 this evening. If I see my bank balance is up by a hundred thousand dollars, I will send the e-mail. Do we have a deal?" Still looking skeptical, Al reached for the check. "OK, Ms. Jones, I'm going to trust you on this. Give me the number of your account, and the money will be there before 8:00 tonight. If you double cross us on this, I'll nail you to the wall." Edison Jones had been quiet through the entire exchange, but now spoke up with far more assurance than he had been speaking with before. "I'll guarantee you that she won't double cross you, Al. If she did she'd never be able to hold her head up in our family again." Edison Jones and his cousin left the café but Al and Bonnie lingered over coffee. "So, what do you think?" Al asked. "I think she'll do what she says," Bonnie answered, "But I'm not sure how far I would trust her as an employee." Al shook his head ruefully. "That's about what I was thinking. I'll be sure they keep a close watch on her, and she certainly won't be given any sensitive information until she's proven herself." Bonnie looked thoughtful. "OK, do you have to talk to Linda to arrange for the funds to be transferred?" "No, I'll use my personal funds. It's a real gamble. I wouldn't feel right about using company funds. If she comes through and the information she gives us is useful, I'll talk to Linda and see if I can recover the funds from the company at that time." Al ran his hands through his hair, then took another sip of coffee. "Is there anything you would like to do this afternoon?" "Well, I guess I should go back to my apartment. I can't hide out forever." Al reached over and took her hand. "If you go to your apartment, I go with you. We can pack up some things and you can stay with me for a few days." "I think I'd like that, Al, but I have a job and I should get back to working on it. I have a regular column you know. I have a few ahead that are already written, but I've about run out of them." Al gazed into her eyes, and didn't think she seemed at all sincere about wanting to go back to work. "I don't want you running around all over the city while this is going on. Don't you have any vacation time you could take?" Bonnie gave him a sheepish grin. "Actually, they've been after me to use some of my vacation time. I have over four weeks accrued. I don't want to be a bother to you though. I could take some vacation but stay in my apartment." Al shook his head. "Haven't you realize by now that I like having you around? I thought this morning would have made that apparent." He grinned at her, remembering her giggle as he answered the unwanted interruption. "So that's why you want me to stay with you," Bonnie blushed. Now it was Al's turn to blush. "No... no," he quickly said. He sighed loudly, his stomach doing a flip flop as he tried to decide if he had insulted Bonnie or not. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings. "Now what do I do?" he asked himself. He took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "I'm sorry Bonnie. I didn't mean to imply that I expected anything of you. I was just trying to say how much I enjoyed waking up with you this morning. Nothing has to go any further then you want it to go." Bonnie smiled and squeezed his hand. "I was just teasing Al. Seriously though, I really hate to impose on you. When you live alone, it's not always easy having an houseguest. " "We're going to be working on this thing together anyway. It only makes sense for you to stay with me. I'll have another bed brought in if you'd like. Won't you reconsider?" Al squeezed her hand. "I could out rank you, you know." he grinned at her. "A computer games programmer has to have rank over a reporter! Don't you think?" Bonnie brought her right hand up to her forehead in a mock salute. She'd never had such a sweet proposition before in her life. She loved it! "Sir, yes Sir!" she nearly shouted. An old man, sitting at the counter looked their way. Bonnie caught his eye and gave him a wink. He smiled and went back to his coffee. As they got up to leave, Bonnie gave Al a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Don't bother about the other bed," she whispered in his ear. ------- Chapter 11 Linda was seated at one end of the small mahogany conference table in the Executive Conference Room. On either side of her were the four men who had controlled the daily operation of Modern Electronics, allowing Sam, who was the owner and founder, to exercise his creative talents. Frederick Nelson was in charge of research and development. Frederick was not a designer himself, although he had a degree in electrical engineering. Frederick was an expert at detail. He seemed to know everything that was going on with each of the many projects that were currently under development. Normally a quiet man, he could be a tyrant when it came to budget overruns, or schedules that were not met. It had always rankled him that Sam, had his own budget, and worked completely outside his control. William Stevens was in charge of finance. He was a longtime friend of Sam's, and had been Sam's roommate during their first year of college. He and his wife, Sharon, were frequent house guests in Sam and Linda's home. She knew she had his support without even asking. John Cooper was the manufacturing guru. He was a no-nonsense man who had good people working for him, treated them well, but demanded as much from them as he did himself. He was well liked by all the people under him because he treated them fairly, even though he was a hard taskmaster. Wayne Milton was in charge of human resources. Linda didn't know him well, but Sam had seemed to like him and trust him. Linda explained to them what had been happening. She told them about the Japanese businessmen who had tried to buy the company, and about Al being beaten by some Japanese thugs. She explained that the Japanese appeared to be after the processes for creating the new polyhedrons Sam had designed. She told them of Al's new involvement with the company, then open up the meeting for discussion. Fred Nelson was the first to speak. "Ms. Green, I'm sorry about your husband's death, but now would be a good time for us to start to operating like a real company." He looked nervously at the other men seated around a table. "I've been kept totally in the dark about this new polyhedron your husband designed. It's time you turned those papers over to me and let me do the job I am supposed to do." Linda looked at him coldly. "My husband was killed and my brother-in-law was badly beaten for those papers. Are you sure you want to face a similar fate?" Nelson stubbornly held his ground. "Ms. Green, we're not even sure that what happened to your husband and brother-in-law has anything to do with the polyhedrons. I'm in charge of research and development. I'm the one who has the knowledge of the proper way to get these processes patented. Your husband was a cowboy, who wanted to do it all. It was more like a game to him. Now it's time to quit playing games and turn this process into something of will make a lot of money for the company, and consequently for every one of us around this table." Linda worked very hard to control the anger that was boiling inside her. She looked over at Will Stevens. "How much is Fred's share of the company worth today, Will?" Stevens looked a little uncomfortable. "I don't have an exact figure, but it would be somewhere around $1,500,000." Linda smiled at him and asked, "If this turns out to be as big as my husband thought it would be, how much would his share be worth then?" Stevens was very thoughtful. "It's really impossible to say. The dihedrons market is so large, if we only grabbed a small portion of it, the company would increase in value by at least 20 times. It could be as much a hundred times." "OK, Fred, there are two ways we can go with this," and she gave him her sweetest smile. "I will buy you out, today, for what your share is worth at this moment, or you can do things the way I want them done, the way my cowboy husband wanted them done." She waited patiently while Nelson fidgeted and looked at each of the other men at the table for support. When he finally realized he wasn't going to get any support, he turned back to Linda. "I'm sorry Ms. Green, I didn't mean to give offense. Of course we'll do things the way you want them done. It's just that I am supposed to be in charge of research and development, but I'm being left out of the loop." Linda smiled at him, a more sincere smile this time, and reached over and took his hand. "I know how you must feel, Fred, but we have to find out what happened to my husband before I would feel safe giving you the processes." Linda looked around the table at each of the executives. "Right now, I believe that whoever has the processes is a target. I don't want any of you to suffer the same fate my husband did." Fred Nelson was visibly shaken, and the rest of the men around a table looked decidedly uncomfortable. Linda now turned her attention to Wayne Milton. "Something's been bothering me, Wayne," she said. "The only people who knew about the polyhedrons were in this company. Someone had to leak the information to the Japanese. What kind of background checks have we done on the employees?" Milton looked her directly in the eye. "Well, Linda, we check everyone's references and talk with previous employers, but that's about it. We've never had to be too security conscious." Linda frowned. "Apparently we have to change that, beginning now. I would like for you to start doing background checks on all of our current employees. I do mean all employees. Start with the officers of the company, and work your way down to the cleaning people, and temporary help. I also want you to do background checks on anyone who worked here, but quit in the last two weeks. Be especially sure to check on any who have worked for foreign companies" John Cooper had been sitting quietly, saying nothing, but it was now his turn in the spotlight. Linda didn't know a lot about him, but Sam had said he was highly competent. "Did Sam discuss the manufacturing of the new polyhedrons with you?" she asked. John shook his head. "Not really," he said. "He asked me a few questions about the capabilities of different types of machinery, and I assumed that he was asking because of the polyhedrons. He never came right out and said so, though." "OK, John, I'd like for you to start looking into the cost of setting up an assembly line for manufacturing dihedrons. We'll assume for the moment that the polyhedron process will be similar to the dihedron process." Linda looked at him and he nodded his agreement. They discussed a few things about the everyday operation of the business, and Linda told them they had complete autonomy in how they ran things. She didn't want them to think she was going to stifle them. The meeting broke up shortly afterwards. ------- As they drove to Bonnie's apartment, Al kept a close lookout, but did not see anyone following them. Nothing in the apartment seemed amiss. Al walked around checking out the art prints on the wall, while Bonnie busied herself packing two large suitcases. She was about halfway through her packing when she called Al into the bedroom. When he got there, Bonnie was standing in the middle of the room, a pair tennis shoes in her hand. She had a strange look on her face, as though waiting expectantly for something to happen. "Al, someone's been in my apartment" she said flatly. Her eyes were roaming over the room, stopping every now and then to glance at something on her dresser or night stand. Al moved quickly to Bonnie's side. "How do you know?" he asked softly. "Some of the things in my drawers have been rearranged just enough that I know someone has gone through them." Suddenly Al wished that he had brought Art's present with him. "Is anything missing?" Bonnie shook her head. "Not that I noticed so far," she said. "OK, finish packing as quickly as you can. We'll check over the other rooms after you've finished." He left the bedroom and started peeking into all the closets, and anyplace else he could think of where a man might hide. There was no one else there. Bonnie finished packing and they sat the suitcases by the door. She gave a quick look through the rest of the apartment, then went into her office. She looked through her desk drawers, and then at the rack of dihedrons to the right of her monitor. "There are three dihedrons missing from this rack," she said as she ran her index finger from left to right. "They had the information on them that I had dug up about the company's of the Japanese men who had visited the victims prior to their deaths. " "I hate to ask this, but did you make copies?" Al asked hopefully. Bonnie's face brightened. "Yes. I have them in a safety deposit box at the bank" she grinned. Al placed a quick kiss on her cheek. "Atta girl." he grinned as he took her hand. Al was beginning to get jumpy. "Let's get out here," he said. They were both quiet on the trip to Al's place. When they arrived, Al placed a call to Art, while Bonnie unpacked. He told Art about the apparent break in at Bonnie's apartment. Art didn't seem at all surprised, nor was he optimistic about finding who had done the burglary, but he promised to have someone investigate. When Al hung up, he called Linda's parents' place, and was happy to find her there. He told her about the break in at Bonnie apartment, and she agreed to meet for breakfast the following morning so he could tell her about everything else that was going on. Al went to his computer and quickly arranged to have $100,000 transferred from his account to Katharine Jones. He then e-mailed Hak on a secure server to tell him about the code he would be sending him later. When Bonnie came downstairs from unpacking, she was looking depressed. Al picked up on it at once. "Put on some glad rags," he said. "Let's get out of here for a while, have a nice dinner somewhere, then maybe catch a movie or something." Bonnie's mood brightened instantly. "That sounds great. Give me five minutes. I'll bet you I'm ready before you are." With that she was off running up the stairs to the bedroom to change. She was in the bathroom with the door closed by the time Al reached the top of the stairs. He grabbed a sweater, a clean pair of slacks, socks, and black loafers. He was just sliding his feet into the loafers when the bathroom door opened. When Bonnie stepped out into the bedroom area, Al was struck dumb for a moment. She was wearing an emerald green dress that clung to her body like a lover. Her long auburn hair was flowing over her shoulders. She did a slow turn in front of him, smiling like a schoolgirl getting ready for her first date. When Al could finally get his voice back, he looked her up and down, then said, "You have to be the most beautiful woman I've never seen." Bonnie was radiant. "Well, thank you kind sir. I've always liked this dress. It sets off my hair and eyes, but I am far from beautiful." Al stepped forward and took her in his arms. "You haven't looked at yourself in the mirror lately then, sweetheart. I think you are ravishing, and it's what I think that matters. Are you ready to go that quickly?" Bonnie nodded demurely, took his arm, and led him out of the apartment. ------- They dined on crab and lobster at a wonderful seafood restaurant close to Fisherman's Wharf. Not once during dinner, or during the walk they took along the beach, did they mention the murders, dihedrons, or even the Japanese. They were two people lost in each other. They held hands as they walked and talked about everything, and nothing. They decided to forgo going to a movie, and were home by 10:30 PM. ------- Deguchi Isao sat alone in the living room of his home and looked at all of his possessions. There were screens dividing the room into different living areas. Japanese art decorated the walls, and a deep rich carpet covered the floor. He sat, sipping tea, and contemplating the events that had brought him to this moment. There was no doubt in his mind that he had let down his shogun, Hirano Kiso. It would be a disgrace to his family name and to his ancestors when the consequences of his action and inaction became known. If Isao had been born an American, he would have probably been making a thousand excuses for himself, or going to one of their psychiatrists so they could help him to forgive himself for what had happened. But, Isao had been born Japanese. His reaction was to accept responsibility for what had happened and to try to atone in the traditional Japanese way. Honor for him was dearer than life. Seppuku, (Sape-puu-kuu) is the Japanese formal language term for ritual suicide (Hara-kiri (Har-rah-kee-ree) is the common language term.) It was an integral aspect of feudal Japan between 1192 and 1868. It developed as an integral part of the code of bushido and the discipline of the samurai warrior class. The Shishi society had kept it alive since the Japanese government officially banned it. Isao didn't have everything he needed to perform the ceremony in the traditional way, but he was determined to follow the way of the Samurai as closely as possible. All the matters relating to the act were carefully prescribed and carried out in the most meticulous manner. The most conspicuous participant, other than the victim, was the kaishaku (kie-shah-kuu), or assistant, who was responsible for cutting off the victim's head after he had sliced his abdomen open. The kaishaku was generally a close friend or associate of the condemned. Isao did not have a kaishaku to assist him. His would be a solitary act, and the agony he would suffer would be even greater because there was no one else there to end it for him. Isao took one of the small sweets he liked so well from the short table in front of him and delicately bit off the end. He savored the taste, then sipped from the cup of warm sake at his right hand. He continued eating the sweets and sipping the sake, taking time to savor each bite and each sip. He was in no hurry. Some things couldn't be rushed. Finally he picked up the ceremonial knife from the table in front of him. After praying for forgiveness, he calmly plunged the knife into the left side of his stomach, then drew it boldly across to the right side. He remained conscious as he saw his intestines spilling out onto his lap. There was very little blood, so he knew he had missed any major arteries. Since he did not have a kaishaku to assist him, he didn't think his ancestors would judge him harshly if he hurried the process along himself. He took the knife and wiped it on his kimono, then made a short, sharp incision in the groin area, severing the femoral artery. Isao continued to pray until he lost consciousness. ------- Nothing in the apartment seemed to be disturbed, so they visibly relaxed. Bonnie looked over Al's shoulder as he checked for e-mails. There were two in his in-basket from someone he didn't know. He clicked on the first and it filled his screen. The subject of the e-mail was "Here it is". The body of the e-mail was filled with 1's and 0"s. Al's heart beat a little faster as he looked it over. He turned to Bonnie. "This doesn't mean a thing to me, but it will to Hak. I'm going to print out a copy, and forward this to him. " He clicked on the second e-mail and was soon reading it. It too was from Ms. Jones. The body of the e-mail was short and sweet, and read as follows: The money came through, so I turned in my resignation to my boss effective two weeks from today. I have attached a copy of the resignation e-mail I sent my boss. I'll see you in two weeks. I am looking forward to working for Modern Electronics. Al didn't bother looking at the attachment, but he didn't erase it either. He felt he owed her a reply, but he'd take care of it tomorrow. Al and Bonnie talked for a few minutes, then went up the stairs to get ready for bed. While Bonnie was changing in the bathroom, Al again stripped down to his boxer shorts. He was lying there with his hands under his head when the bathroom door opened. He hadn't thought he could be surprised again by Bonnie's looks, but as she walked toward the bed, he thought he felt his heart stop. Again she was dressed in green. This time it was a short nightgown made of a shimmering material that he was never sure if it were transparent or if it was his imagination. Again she did a slow turn in front of him. "Do you like it?" she asked. Suddenly Al's throat was dry. ------- Friday, August 17, 2035, AM It was just after midnight when Hak opened the e-mail from Al and immediately started converting it into a readable language. The only problem was, even though this was supposed to be unencrypted, the instructions didn't make any sense. He went on to the end of the message, converting the machine code to assembly language. It was only near the end of the message that anything appeared to make sense. When he was finished, he started looking back through until he found the first instructions he could understand. He decided to interpret these instructions first. As he did so a smile came over his face. By now he had been working for several hours, but he was suddenly energized. The instructions that he understood were a key for reading the rest of the program. This section processed all the rest of the code. It subtracted a "one" from each instruction before processing it. This gave a whole new meaning to each instruction. He went back through and converted all the instructions, as the command section of the code would process them. After he had them all interpreted again, he started to write out in English what each instruction was doing. It was nearly dawn when he finished. He had known what the program was designed for, for quite a while, but was still extremely excited when he had the entire program written out. There was one main program and several smaller ones, one of which prevented the saving of certain types of files to dihedrons. The main program was a doozy. He couldn't wait to tell Al about it. He started to immediately contact Al, then realized he wouldn't be up for hours. He decided to take a nap, and contact Al in a couple of hours. ------- When he opened his eyes, he knew at once he had overslept. It was nearly noon. When he again tried to contact his friend, Al wasn't home. He left an urgent e-mail, and sat back to wait for Al to contact him. ------- Al could hardly take his eyes off Bonnie as they dressed to go to their breakfast with Linda. The lovemaking they shared last night and again this morning was better than any he had experienced in his entire life. He wondered why. There was much more here than just a physical attraction. They seemed to connect on all levels. Bonnie seemed to share his feelings. She seemed to exude physical contentment and spiritual well being. They had shared a shower, and explored each other's bodies under the pretext of assuring they were perfectly clean. Dressing, shaving, and combing were all interrupted many times by kisses, touches, and caresses. As they walked down the stairs when they were leaving, they were holding hands and chatting about inconsequential things. They were being happy in the moment and thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Al opened the door, paying more attention to Bonnie then he was to his surroundings. He didn't see what was laying outside his door until Bonnie let out a gasp, then turned retching into the hallway. Al's stomach churned when he saw the gruesome display in front of him. There was a nude female body lying on his welcome mat. The arms and legs had been cut off and were neatly stacked on each side of the torso. The severed head of Katharine Jones was sitting on top of her chest, it's wide-open eyes staring directly at him. He stood frozen for what was probably a few seconds, but seemed like an eternity. His muscles finally responded and he slammed the door. He put an arm around Bonnie and pulled her to him. Her body was shaking and she was sobbing quietly. He held her for a couple of minutes, then began guiding her up the stairs and back through the security door into the living room. He pulled her down on to the couch. He kept his arms around her and made soothing sounds until she had quieted. When the trembling had stopped and her breathing was more regular, he disengaged himself, picked up his cell phone, and dialed 911. When the operator answered, Al told her about the grisly thing outside his door. He asked her to dispatch some officers and to notify Lt. Slavens. He went back to comfort Bonnie while they waited for the officers to arrive. Within minutes they could hear the screech of approaching sirens. When the security console announced that someone was at the door, he buzzed them in immediately. He opened the inner door and waited while two young officers made their way up the stairs. Both were visible shaken by what they had to pass to enter the building. They introduced themselves as officers Morrison and Hitchcock. Officer Hitchcock pulled out a small notebook and began asking questions. He wanted to know who they were, where they lived, and how they had found the body When he had finished with the preliminary questions, officer Hitchcock looked at the couple seated on the couch. "Did either of you know the deceased?" Although he was uncomfortable Al tried not to show it. "We had met her. We had lunch with her yesterday. She had applied for a job at the company I own part of." The young officer looked skeptical. "Where did she work before?" "She was a manufacturing engineer in the dihedron manufacturing department at Mitsutronics," Al answered. "She was applying for a position in the new dihedron manufacturing facility we are setting up." Officer Hitchcock continued to look at the couple, making notes on his pad as they answered each question. "Why did she want to leave Mitsutronics?" Al squeezed Bonnie's hand. "She didn't see any way she could advance at Mitsutronics. She told us she had been in the same position for over 10 years." Officer Morrison had been quiet until this point, but now spoke up. "Were you considering giving her a job?" Al glanced over at Morrison. "As a matter of fact, we had made her an offer. She seemed to be quite knowledgeable in her field, and I'm sure she would've been an asset to our company." "Do you know anything about her personal life? To you know if she has family in the area?" Morrison asked. "Yes, Officer Morrison, she does have family in the area. That's one of the reasons she applied to our company. Her cousin, Edison Jones, is in our research and development department. As for her personal life, I wouldn't know anything about that," Al supplied. Officer Morrison glanced at his partner, then back at Al. "Do you know how we could reach this Edison Jones?" "I'm sure he's at work by this time." Al answered. He then supplied the address and phone number for Modern Electronics. ------- Chapter 12 Before the officers could ask any more questions, Lt. Slavens came striding into the room. He turned to the two officers and asked them what they had so far. Both of the officers seemed to recognize him and didn't hesitate in giving him the information. "OK, why don't you two go downstairs and give all the information you have collected to the two detectives who just arrived. I'll take over from here," Art told them. "I want to thank you guys for doing such a conscientious job. I'll make sure your supervisor hears about it." Both officers seemed pleased as they left the room and headed down the stairs. When the two officers were out of earshot, Art turned to his two friends. "What kind of mess have you two gotten yourselves into this time?" Al put his arm around Bonnie's shoulder. "Did you see the body downstairs, Art?" "Yeah," Art ran his hand up over his forehead and backed through his hair. "I thought the call I went out on earlier this morning was bad, but this one would shake anyone up." Al looked sheepishly at his new friend. "I'm afraid I didn't tell the officers who were here everything, Art. I don't know if I should even tell you, but I guess it will come out eventually anyway." Lt. Slavens was a little worried. "Maybe you'd better tell me about it now." Al told him about their meeting with Katharine Jones the day before, and about the hundred thousand dollars he had transferred. He didn't leave anything out, even though Art's visage had begun to cloud. Art didn't say a word for a long time, but began to pace back and forth in front of the couch. "Al, this is really about the dumbest thing I've ever heard of anyone pulling. This is industrial espionage, pure and simple." Al and Bonnie kept quiet while Slavens paced. Finally he continued. "You're right. This is going to look bad for you and I can't protect you on it." Al looked over at Bonnie. "I'm not asking for any special favors, Art. I screwed up and I'll take whatever is coming to me." Art turned angrily to Bonnie. "Bonnie, would you keep this amateur detective quite while I think? I don't need a martyr right now, I need to figure out what to do." He resumed his pacing for a couple of minutes then said, "OK, I guess the hundred thousand could be considered a sign-up bonus for coming to work for you. I don't think you have to mention the e-mail, unless it comes up, then just say it was a confirmation that she would be turning in her resignation at Mitsutronics." Al and Bonnie intelligently remained quiet. Art continued his pacing. "I doubt the e-mail will even come up though. Mitsutronics isn't going to mention it, and if you can keep your big mouth shut, it'll probably never be known." Art again ran his hand up over his forehead and back through his hair." Jim Daniels is going to be the detective assigned to the murder. He's going to learn about the hundred thousand and is going to start digging. There isn't a thing I can do to protect you. Daniels is a real bulldog when it comes to something like this. He's going to think she was blackmailing you." He stopped and stared at the couple on the couch. "I don't know why I'm giving you advice. Industrial espionage is a crime and I'm a police officer. In all my years on the force I have never, and I mean never, advised anyone on how to avoid being caught for a crime." He resumed his pacing. "I can sympathize with why you did it, but I wish you had come up with a better way." Art's pacing had slowed, and he was much calmer. He had resigned himself to the fact that his friends had screwed up, but he wasn't going to allow that to destroy their friendship. Suddenly he stopped, as if someone had hit him in the face with a board. "What department did you say this lady worked in?" Al was a little taken aback by the question, but answered immediately. "She was in the dihedron manufacturing department." Art looked stunned. "You know I said I had been out on a bad call earlier this morning?" Al and Bonnie both nodded, and Art resumed his pacing. "A Japanese guy, who was in charge of the dihedron manufacturing department at Mitsutronics cut his own guts out using a short sword. There seems to be no doubt it was a suicide. All the doors of his house were locked, and his security system was actuated." Now it was Al and Bonnie's turn to look stunned. "Are you saying her boss committed suicide?" Bonnie asked. "It looks that way," Art answered. "Maybe he's the one who offed her, then he got to feeling remorse and did himself in. It's certainly something to look into. Maybe he offed her because he found her sending the e-mail." Art was looking angry again. "Damn it, there's a connection here that I can't even explore. If I do I'll expose your little sleuthing fiasco." Art paced for a couple more minutes, and then turned to his friends again. "Look, I'm going to get out of here before I say something I'll regret. I'll keep Daniels off you this morning, but I'm sure he's going to want to talk to you before the day's over. Pull yourselves together and I'll talk to you later." As Art turned to leave, Al said, "Thanks, Art." Slavens didn't answer, but walked purposefully out the door. When Lt. Slavens had gone, Al immediately called Linda. She answered on the first ring. "I was beginning to get worried, Al. I had just picked up the phone to call you. Is anything wrong?" Al told her about the dead body on his doorstep, but didn't go into any details. He arranged to meet her in an hour, and hung up the phone. He turned to Bonnie and asked if she was up for the meeting. She nodded timidly, still holding on to his hand as if her life depended on it. They held each other for a few minutes, then Bonnie finally found her voice. "Al, I am so sorry for how I've been acting. I've seen dead bodies before, but this really through me. I'm usually not such a sissy." Al stroked her hair, and kissed her on the tip of her nose. "This would've shook anyone up, Bonnie. I almost lost control of my bodily functions. Don't be ashamed of how you reacted." Bonnie squirmed around until she was looking directly in his eyes. "It's just that, I don't know, if I had had to act quickly, I wouldn't have been able to. That scares me. I'm usually able to take care of myself, but this time I totally lost control." "I know what you mean, sweetheart," he assured her. "It is scary, but I would have wondered about you if you hadn't reacted the way you did. Let's see if the detectives will let us out of here. I think the change of scenery would do us both good." Al had Bonnie wait at the top of the stairs while he checked to see if they had removed the body. They had, so he climbed the stairs, took her arm, and led her outside. They ignored the detectives and walked straight to Al's rental car. ------- Hirano Muso parked his black Honda in the small paved parking lot, tastefully shielded from the rest of the grounds by a copse of small pine trees. There was only one other car in the lot, and he recognized it as belonging to his brother Kiso. As he started up the flagstone path he marveled at the scene around him. He knew there were 45 acres of grounds. From the road all you could see was a six-foot high stone fence, with razor wire along the top. Inside you were in a different world from the sun baked fields of Northern California. The grass was as green and as well manicured as you would find on any golf course. Even here, inside the electrically operated security gate, all that could be seen were trees, grass, and flowers. Each tree seemed to be placed in the exact spot for it to add the most to its surroundings. As Muso followed the path up a small hillock, he could see the top of a pagoda shaped structure beginning to rise above its surroundings. This was the dojo of Hirano Kiso. Inside the structure was much larger than it appeared from the path. There were several exercise rooms on the first floor, with shower room and lockers for anyone Kiso invited to share his dojo. Bamboo mats separated the exercise rooms. The floors of the exercise rooms were covered with tatami mats. Paper screens were placed over the windows to allow the sun to brighten the room, without blinding the participants in the ritual combat that was practiced here. The second floor of the dojo was more Americanized. Kiso had an office with a complete computer setup in one room. Kiso very seldom used this office, but it was nice to have it when he wanted it. There were small and large conference rooms for meetings of the Shishi and a small kitchen. Kiso even had a bedroom furnished just to his liking for the rare occasions he decided to spend the night at the dojo. When Muso entered the exercise room that Kiso was using, he saw that his brother was doing of one of his favorite exercises. He had a row of delicate crystal wine glasses set up on a padded shelf. Behind each glass was a box with padded sides and bottom. Kiso would select a particular glass he wanted to knock over. He would then charge toward it, swinging his jo at imaginary opponents. When he was near enough, he would swing the jo with full force at the selected glass, using his excellent muscular control to stop his blow just as the jo touched the glass, knocking it into the box behind it without breaking the glass. Another variation of this exercise was to allow the jo to continue through a full swing, but measuring the swing so precisely that only the hard tip of the jo brushed the glass, toppling it into its box. As Muso watched, Kiso was starting his attack. Kiso ran forward, did a foreword flip, then with a motion almost too fast for the eye to follow knocked one glass off with the left end of the jo He followed this by knocking off another glass with the right end of the jo. The movement was so fast that the first glass was still in the air when the second began its fall. On other, more happy occasions, Muso had felt great pride in his brother's accomplishments. This time he just felt fear. Muso had never been fast, so he was never a match for Kiso in combat. He was very strong, but great strength was not much of an asset in this style of combat. Muso continued watching as Kiso went through increasingly complex routines. Finally it appeared that Kiso noticed him, although he knew that Kiso had been aware of him the entire time. Kiso made a run toward him, swinging the jo in a high arc and bringing it down toward Muso's head. Muso knew not to move, if he did he could be seriously injured. The jo whistled by, just touching his ear, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Kiso bowed to him and smiled. "Welcome my, brother. Let us talk while I finish my exercises." Kiso moved across the room, swinging at imaginary opponents. "I have been told that Deguchi Isao has committed seppuku. Do you know anything about this?" "I was with Deguchi Isao last evening, Kiso," Muso answered. "He called me to Mitsutronics because he had found the American woman, Katharine Jones, trying to break into his safe." "Did this woman find anything," Kiso asked as he swung his jo so close to Muso's nose that Muso flinched involuntarily. "Isao assured me that she had not. He found her at his safe, and when he told her that she would be fired, she told him that she had already quit and that she was going to Modern Electronics. He told me," Muso said shakily, "that a couple of weeks ago she had been asking questions about the dihedron virus." "How did Isao know that this woman was not closing the safe, instead of trying to open it?" "When I arrived there, the woman was tied to a chair with packing tape. He told me that after he had restrained her, he checked the contents of the safe and nothing appeared to be disturbed. She had sent him an e-mail telling him she was resigning and giving him two weeks notice." Kiso swung his jo, brushing the front of Muso's trousers at the groin. This time Muso managed not to flinch, but it took a superhuman effort on his part. "What have you done with her?" Muso did not want to tell him, but knew he had to. "We disposed of her, Kiso." "And just how did you dispose of her," Kiso asked as he did a forward roll, coming back on his feet in one fluid motion. "We dismembered her and left her on the doorstep of Al Green." Muso felt hot, and the collar of his shirt felt much too tight. "We were very thorough and made sure that there was no way the police could trace us." Kiso stopped his exercising and walked over to face his brother. He didn't say anything for a moment, then began talking quietly. "Muso, I know you were trying to make a statement to Mr. Green, but I'm afraid this will come back to haunt us. If Mr. Green reports to the police that the Jones woman was coming to work for him, even the bumbling detectives they have in San Francisco will start checking into the possibility that someone at Mitsutronics killed her because she was leaving the company." Muso felt a little more comfortable. "They would have checked Mitsutronics anyway, Kiso. We made sure that no one could know she was at Mitsutronics last night. The security cameras do not show her being there and the entry log has been corrected. Her car was left in a parking lot near Mr. Green's home. The e-mail she sent to Isao has been erased from his computer." Kiso started moving again. "For your sake I hope so, Muso. We are brothers. I want you to know that we will always be together. It is not honorable for one brother to run out on another brother when things go wrong. So I wanted you to know that we will always be together. I will act as your kaishaku if I need to." Muso thought of Kiso as the kaishaku, chopping off his head after he had disemboweled himself. Now he was really worried. He wondered if Kiso knew about the money that he had been hiding away over the last few years. "Why else would he mention running out," he wondered. Kiso again swung his jo close to Muso's face. "My brother, you are a Shishi. I am your shogun. We must act accordingly." Muso remained silent as Kiso continued his exercising. Finally Kiso spoke again. "What are you doing about Mr. Green and his pretty companion," he asked. "They are being followed discreetly," Muso replied. "We may have to break in to his home again. He told the police Lt. the processes were not hidden in his home, but I do not believe that." Kiso stopped and looked at his brother again. "Have you been able to find the Green children?" "No, Kiso, Mrs. Green is staying with her parents, but we don't believe the children are there. We have not seen them." Muso answered. "We have not been able to get too close. Her father is insane. He came out on his porch yesterday afternoon and pointed a shotgun directly at the men we had watching her house. They left quickly, but we had two more men in position within minutes. We are also monitoring all telephone calls originating from the house and from her cell phone." Kiso thoughtfully raised the tip of his jo to his nose. "Try to find out where she went on the day of the funeral. If we can find the children we will get what we want. If all else fails, bring Mr. Green to me here at the dojo at noon, three days from today. I will question him myself." ------- Al and Bonnie met Linda at a little Italian restaurant in Redwood City. She was waiting for them at a table near the rear of the restaurant when they came. She looked relieved to see them. The waitress was there immediately and took their orders. The made small talk until she returned with their submarine sandwiches and drinks. When she was gone, Al told Linda about their meeting with Katharine Jones the previous day. He told her that he agreed to Ms. Jones request for a hundred thousand dollars and a job at Modern Electronics in exchange for a copy of the dihedron virus program. When he paused to take a bite of his sandwich, Bonnie broke in. She told Linda everything that happened since the meeting. Including, much to Al's discomfort that she and Al had become lovers. When Bonnie finished talking, Linda sat down her drink and looked at the two people across from her. "OK, first things first," she said smiling. "We'll get to Ms. Jones shortly." She took both of Bonnie's hands in hers. "I am so happy you and Al are now a couple. I think you will be very good for each other. Maybe you can even tame him, Lord knows no one else has been able to. " Linda took another bite of her sandwich then became all business. "You said that Lt. Slavens was worried that the detective would find out about the money being transferred from your account to Ms. Jones. I think he's right that we have to say it was a recruitment bonus." She thought for a moment then continued. "I'll have Will Stevens transfer a hundred thousand dollars to your account today. He'll send you an e-mail thanking you for paying Ms. Jones her recruitment bonus, while his computer was down. That should get the detective of your back." "Do you think he'll go along with that?" Al asked. "I know he will. Will has always been a good friend to Sam and to me. I'll tell him only what he needs to know." Al appeared doubtful. "OK, how about the personnel guy? He's going to know something's wrong." Linda fiddled with her glass. "Not really. This woman really did apply for a job before. I remember Sam talking about her. He said she was really smart, and he planned to hire her as soon as they were ready to go public with the polyhedrons. I'm sure she filled out an application and everything. It should be on file." Now, Al was feeling a little more comfortable. "I'm really sorry I got you into this mess, Linda. Art said it was probably was one of the stupidest things he'd ever heard of." Linda laughed out loud. "I guess you're not alone, Al. I've just made myself an accomplice." ------- Fred Nelson had been at Modern Electronics for nearly five years. When he had heard about the fledgling company, he had talked many times with Sam Green. Sam had been looking for someone to run the research and development department. Fred had been working for Nippon Electronics for seven years at that time, and had been head of research and development for the past two years. He really liked what he could see of the new company and wanted very much to work for it. The only problem was Sam had wanted him to buy into the company, and he just didn't have the two hundred thousand dollars he would need to buy the five-percent share Sam was offering. He tried to work out a way for them to hold out part of his salary each month to go toward the purchase, but Sam had been adamant. The company needed the money for startup capital. Although Sam had wanted him very badly, he really needed the capital to get the business going. Fred had given up on being able to go to the new company, and had mentioned the lost opportunity to his boss, Haruki Nishino. Nishino and been very interested, and had asked him many questions about the enterprise. Nothing more was said about it for over a week then one morning he was having coffee with his boss and Nishino brought the subject up again. Haruki Nishino told Fred that he really hated for him to miss out on this opportunity. He had never really been that close with his boss, and was surprised when Nishino offered to loan him the two hundred thousand. He was so excited, he never thought that there might be strings attached that he wasn't aware of. The repayment agreement was specific, but was never formally written down. Fred had gone to Sam and offered him the two hundred thousand for the share of the company and the position as vice president of research and development. Sam knew his credentials and immediately agreed. Everything had gone well for several months. Fred was making payments to Nishino on the first of every month. They had lunch together once a week and gossiped about what was happening at Nippon, and what Fred was working on at Modern. It was during one of these lunches that Fred mentioned a new gadget that Sam was working on. Nishino asked him questions about the gadget, and when lunch was over he handed Fred a receipt for five thousand dollars, to be knocked off his debt. Fred didn't want to accept the money, but Nishino was firm. He told Fred that the information was valuable to him, and insisted that Fred accept the reduction in his debt. Fred was uncomfortable with it, but didn't really see any harm. He hadn't given away any specifics about the device. It was just gossip, the kind that all engineers exchange when they get together. He had not been pressed for any further information, and their next lunch together went the same as all of their previous lunches. Fred had almost forgotten about the incident, when some months later he mentioned another device they were working on. Again, at the end of the lunch, he was handed a receipt for five thousand dollars to be knocked off his debt. Again, there was no pressure for details or for any other information. Two weeks ago when he was again having lunch with Nishino, he mentioned the new polyhedrons that Sam was working on. At the end of the lunch, Nishino had given him a receipt for twenty thousand dollars, and asked him to see what else he could find out about them. Fred was hesitant, but Nishino applied some mild pressure and when they parted, Fred had agreed to see what else he could find out. The payments Fred had been making had barely covered the interest on the loan. The only things that had really reduced the principal were the payments he had received for the tidbits of information he had provided. Fred calculated that he now owed less than a hundred thousand. After the meeting yesterday with Linda, he went to his bank and got a loan for one hundred thousand dollars, using his interest in Modern Electronics as collateral. Today, when he met with Nishino, he planned to pay off the debt in full. When Nishino arrived, he was not the same gregarious person Fred had become accustomed to. Nishino was all business. "What more have you learned about the polyhedrons?" he asked. Fred was decidedly uncomfortable. "Not a thing, I'm afraid. The only ones who know anything about the polyhedrons are Al and Linda Green. They're not saying anything. I tried to get them to turn over the processes to me in a meeting yesterday, and I thought they were going to fire me on the spot. There's really nothing more I can find out." Nishino shook his head. "That's not good enough, Fred. The people who advanced me the money want more information. It's not that they just want it, they are demanding it. They have been very good to you, Fred. Now they want something in return." Although he was afraid, Fred was also getting angry. "I don't care what they want, or what they demand. I don't have any more information, and there is no way that I can get more information. I'm prepared to write you a check for the balance of what they owe. Then, I don't owe them anything or you either for that matter." Nishino smiled an infuriating smile that left Fred feeling like he had no idea what was going on. Nishino was quiet for what seemed like hours, but what was probably not more than a minute. "Do you really think it's that easy, Fred? These people are not really interested in getting the money back. Even if I accept your check, they will still expect you to furnish them with the information they're requesting." Fred face was turning red. "You can't threaten to expose me, Nishino. You are just as guilty of industrial espionage as I am. There's really nothing you can do to me if I can't find anything more about the polyhedrons." Nishino was still smiling all though his eyes were extremely cold. "I wouldn't worry too much about them exposing you, Fred. If I were you I'd be worrying more about ending up like Sam Green." Nishino got up from the table and left without saying another word. ------- Chapter 13 Lieutenant Slavens was seated at his desk, going over the reports from the early morning suicide he had been called out on. He had been at them for some time, when Detective Sgt. Jim Daniels came into the room and took a seat across from him without saying a word. When Slavens finally looked up from his report Daniels was waiting patiently. Daniels was a large man of African American origins. Slavens knew that when working a case Daniels was just as patient and had a bulldog tenacity that kept him looking for answers long after other detectives had given up. This made him an excellent detective. It also made him a bit of a pain in the ass. "What up, Jim?" Slavens asked. "Well, Art," Daniels began, "I'm starting to dig in to this Jones woman's murder, and a since I know you're pretty close with this Al Green, I thought you might be able to help me out." "OK, Jim, I'll help you in any way I can. What did you need to know?" Daniel was a little uncomfortable, but doggedly kept on. "Well, there's something strange here. First Green's brother gets knocked off, then the Jones woman is butchered on his doorstep. It seems like too much of a coincidence that Green doesn't have something to do with it." Art steepled his hands together and thought of how he should answer. "I've gotten to know Al Green pretty well over the last few days. I've never seen anyone as devastated as he was when he had to identify his brother's body. No, I don't see that there was any way that he was faking it. Let me tell you a little bit about why we think his brother was killed, and why he was beaten nearly to death himself." Art went on to tell Daniels about the new process for creating polyhedrons that Sam had found. He told about the Japanese businessmen, who had tried to buy the processes or Sam's business, shortly before he was killed. He told about the veiled threat these businessmen had made, and how no one at the company they claimed they worked for would admit they worked there. He told of the Japanese men who had kidnapped Al, and beaten him, asking only for the processes for making polyhedrons. When Slavens got to the car chase, Daniels broke in. "Yeah, I've heard some rumors about that. Were you able to identify the men in the Honda?" Slavens shook his head. "They were pretty badly burned, but we did manage to get a couple of fingerprints. They didn't have a police record, and we can find no fingerprints on file that match them. No one has come forth to claim the bodies, and there have been no missing persons reports filed that could possibly be either of them." "I did hear those guys were Japanese though. That's too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, don't you think?" Slavens ran the palm of his hand up over his forehead and back through his hair. "Yeah, my thoughts exactly. Then there's the Japanese guy who'd tried to break into Al Green's home. We have him in custody." Daniels' face brightened. "Have you been able to get anything out of him?" Again Slavens shook his head. "This guy hasn't uttered a sound sense I brought him in. We don't even know his name. We fingerprinted him, but nothing showed up. We've had him on 24-hour suicide watch, and as far as we can tell he's never said a word. He sits, staring at wall across from him for 18 hours a day. He eats if you bring food to him, and uses the toilet when he needs to, but that is all he has done since we've had him." Daniels was leaning forward in his chair. "So now we have an American woman who works for a Japanese company, murdered and placed on Al Green's doorstep. Again, too much of a coincidence." "That isn't all. I went out on a call this morning, for an apparent suicide. It turned out to be a Japanese guy, who just happens to be the Jones woman's boss." It was apparent that Daniels was eager to do something. "I don't know about you, Lt. Slavens, but I think we should pay Mitsutronics a visit. I tried calling them earlier, but was told the company president is out of the country. They told me no one else there would be able to talk with us. I don't know who they think they are, but someone there is damned sure going to talk to me." Slavens nodded, "I agree. Let's go over there and see if we can make life miserable for someone." ------- All signs of the dead body were gone when Al and Bonnie arrived back at the converted warehouse. When they opened the door, the first thing they heard was: "Hey boss, you have an urgent message waiting. Hey boss, you have an urgent message waiting. Hey boss, you have an urgent message waiting. " Al turned of the warning message then checked his e-mail. He saw there was one there from Hak, so he contacted him immediately. When Hak came on the line, it was apparent he was excited. >>Where have you been, man? I've got a million things to tell you. >> >>I was out to breakfast with Linda. >> Al answered him. >>Well, first off, let me tell you about the virus you sent me last night. You were right. It does prevent the encrypted files we found from being copied, but that is the least of it. >> There was a long hesitation as if Hak were waiting for Al to respond. When he didn't, Hak went on. >>If this virus is in a computer, and the computer is hooked to a modem, it's dog meat. >> Again he paused. This time Al took the bait. >>OK, what do you mean dog meat? >> >>If someone sends a code word over the modem, the computer goes into a self-destruct mode. At the stroke of midnight following receipt of the command, or the next time after that when the computer is turned on, it will erase all of the system files in the computer, then erase the file allocation tables on the hard drive. This leaves you with a computer with no operating system, and even if you loaded in a new operating system, it would not be able to find any of the files on the hard drive. It would take hours, maybe even days, to bring the computer back into complete operation. >> Al was stunned. >>What's the code word? >> >>GONNOSUKE. >> >>Any idea what that means? >> >>Not really. It isn't important really what the code word is. What it does is the important thing. Do you realize anyone with the code word could cripple anyone or everyone in the world just by sending that word to their computer? >> Al was quiet for a minute, thinking about what Hak had told him. >>Yeah, I realize what it'll do, but why would a multi-national company like Mitsutronics want to do something like that? >> Hak came back immediately. >>I'm not sure why, but I've got a good idea when. I tried to get you last night around 8:00 PM, but you didn't answer. >> >>I was out with Bonnie. Why do you think you'll know when? >> >>Well, man, I've been deciphering those other files, and there is one date that keeps coming up. There are projections of how many businesses and transportation companies, and the like will be owned by a certain date. Even banks and the like. >> Al was beginning to get antsy waiting for Hak to get to the punch line, but he knew he couldn't rush him. >>OK, so what's the date? >> >>August 6, 2045. Does that date mean anything to you, man? >> Al thought for a minute, but couldn't come up with anything. "Does August 6, 2045 mean anything to you, Bonnie?" "Well, it is exactly 100 years after the bombing of Hiroshima. The first use of the atomic bomb. My father was a bit of a history buff, and he was especially interested in World War II," Bonnie answered. Al passed the information on to Hak. >>I'll buy that, man. These are Japanese. It is something they'll always remember. One other thing I found in the files was a list of American names. I recognized one of them and then started looking up the rest. They're all Senators or Congressmen. >> >>This is very strange, Hak. Send me all the files you've managed to decrypt, and I'll have Linda take a look at them. Maybe she can make something of them. I think we may be on to something here about the hundredth anniversary of Hiroshima. >> Al was very thoughtful as he turned to Bonnie. They signed off and held each other for long minutes while they pondered what Hak had told them. ------- Linda had just arrived home her meeting with Al and Bonnie when her cell phone rang. She was surprised to hear Fred Nelson's voice on the other end of the line. "What can I do for you Fred?" she asked. "Linda, I hate to bother you, but something has come up that I need to talk to you about. Could we meet somewhere?" he asked. Linda let out a deep sigh. "Couldn't we just talk about it over the phone?" "This is really important, Linda, and it really should be talked about in private." Linda reluctantly agreed, and arranged to meet him in Sam's office at work in half an hour. She spent the entire drive to Modern Electronics wondering what Fred could want. When she arrived, she went into Sam's office and took a seat in the leather executive chair behind his desk. It was her first time to be in Sam's office since he had been killed. She thought of the many times she had sat across from him and was nearly in tears when Fred tapped discreetly on the door and stuck his head in. She motioned him to one of the visitor chairs and waited while he made himself comfortable. By the time Fred was seated, Linda had composed herself, and was all business. "OK, Fred, you wanted this meeting. What's it about?" Fred told her about the loan from his former boss, and about their lunch meetings. He didn't leave anything out, and didn't even try to make himself look better. He told her about the money that was taken off of his debt when he dropped tidbits of information. He then told her about his meeting at noon with Haruki Nishino, and about the veiled threats Nishino had made. Linda listened quietly until Fred stopped speaking. "Do you realize, Fred, that you are probably responsible for my husband's death?" Fred looked as if he were going to break down in tears. "I hadn't really realized it until today, Linda. I'm feeling so guilty about it that I had come to you." There was a sneer in her voice when she asked, "The fact that we're doing background checks and all this would have come out anyway, had nothing to do with it, right?" Fred squirmed in his seat. "I'll have to admit I did realize there would be a lot of explaining to do. You have to believe me though, Linda, I had no idea I was hurting Sam, or the company. The things I told Nishino were being gossiped about by everyone in the company." Linda was furious. "Well, Fred, maybe I should be more charitable, but it was my husband who was killed. I'm going to evoke the clause in your contract that allows us to buy you out. If you fight it, I'll call a meeting of the board of directors. I'm sure you know I control enough votes to force you out if I need to." Fred pulled on the lobe of his left ear. "I'll go quietly, Linda. I do want you to know that I'm terribly sorry for what happened." "I'll accept your apology, Fred, but don't ask for a letter of recommendation," Linda glowered. ------- When Lt. Slavens and Sgt. Daniels arrived at Mitsutronics, they were met by an extremely polite receptionist who explained that none of the officers of the company were available to talk with them. When they insisted that they talk with someone, she told them to have a seat and she would find out if anyone was available. Fifteen minutes later, no one had come forward, so Lt. Slavens went back to the receptionist's desk, and demanded, even more forcefully, that someone see them immediately. Another quarter hour went by, and still no one came. This time Sgt. Daniels went back to the desk. "Lady, we're conducting a murder investigation," he said in a thundering voice, that echoed through the entire lobby. "If you don't have someone here in five minutes, I'm going to arrest a you for obstruction of justice. Then I'm going to close this whole place down for as long as it takes me to decide that no one at Mitsutronics was involved in this murder." Daniels walked back and resumed his seat beside Lt. Slavens. Within the specified five minutes, a bright young man in an Armani suit was standing before them, offering his hand. He introduced himself as George Alexander. Lt. Slavens looked doubtful. "Just what is your position at Mitsutronics?" he asked. Alexander smiled brightly. "I'm in the public relations department," he said enthusiastically. "I'm sure I can help you with anything you need to know." Slavens turned to Sgt. Daniels. "Call headquarters, Jim. I want a team out here to cover each door of the building. They're not to let anyone in or out. Have someone call Judge Reynolds. I want as broad a search warrant as we can get covering all records that have anything to do with dihedrons, or Ms. Jones, or Isao Deguchi." Alexander's seemed shaken for the first time. "Please wait, Sgt. Daniels. What you're doing is going to paralyze us, Lt. Slavens. What can we do for you the will allow us to keep operating?" Lt. Slavens stared directly into the young man's eyes. "You can start treating this seriously. So far, we've been kept waiting for nearly an hour, and all we've been able to talk to is a receptionist and someone from public relations. We don't want public relations. We want to speak to Deguchi's boss, to the personnel manager, and to the president of the company. We want to be seated in someone's office talking to one of these people within five minutes." Alexander was nodding his head the entire time. "Yes sir, excuse me please and I will see what I can do." When they were seated again, Sgt. Daniels gave Lt. Slavens a big grin. "You know we need probable cause to get a search warrant," he said. "A judge would never give us a warrant to go on a fishing expedition." "That young pup didn't know that. We could close down the building though, until we have interviewed everyone in here. I'm sure that someone higher up will realize that." Daniels grinned again. "I wouldn't want to play poker with you, boss." Alexander was soon back, with a middle-aged Japanese man in tow. He introduced the man as Kiichi Aratama, the human-resources manager. Mr. Aratama escorted them, less Mr. Alexander, to a plush third floor office. When they were seated and had refused Mr. Aratama's offer of refreshments, Lt. Slavens began the questioning. "Mr. Aratama, two employees of Mitsutronics were alive yesterday and are dead today. This seems like too much of a coincidence to ignore. What did you know about the deaths?" Mr. Aratama shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't help you much Lt. Certainly, I knew both employees, but I don't know much about either one of them. I certainly don't know why Ms. Jones was murdered or why Mr. Deguchi committed suicide." Lt. Slavens glared at Mr. Aratama. "Cut the bullshit, Aratama. I know that Ms. Jones was leaving Mitsutronics, and I know that Deguchi was her boss. I know that she sent him an e-mail last night turning in her resignation." Sgt. Daniels frowned at the Lt. Slavens. This was a first he had heard of an e-mail. Mr. Aratama was still smiling. "You do not need to be vulgar, Lt. Slavens. If Ms. Jones was thinking of leaving Mitsutronics, it is news to me. As for turning in her resignation, one of the first things we did this morning, after hearing about her death, and Deguchi's suicide, was to check both of their computers to see if anything could explain what had happened. There was no e-mail from Ms. Jones to Mr. Deguchi." "I have it on good authority there was an e-mail, Mr. Aratama. I know someone, who was sent a blind copy of the e-mail," Lt. Slavens assured him. "You see, Mr. Aratama, Ms. Jones was going to work for Modern Electronics. She sent the copy of the e-mail to one of the owners of Modern Electronics to show them she was serious about going to work for them. The e-mail was sent from her office at Mitsutronics." Mr. Aratama steepled his hands together, never losing his painted on smile. "I'm sorry Lt. Slavens. I don't know what this person has to gain by telling you this, or if he's telling the truth, what Ms. Jones' reason was for telling him she was sending the e-mail from Mitsutronics. All I know for sure is that no e-mail was sent from her computer at Mitsutronics, and Mr. Deguchi received no e-mail from her. " Now it was Sergeant Daniels' turn to jump in. "What about Mr. Deguchi? Why would he commit suicide?" Mr. Aratama shook his head. "There is no knowing why someone would commit suicide, Sgt. Daniels. It is a Japanese tradition to do this if one has dishonored himself or his ancestors. I have no way of knowing why Mr. Deguchi would have felt he needed to atone to his ancestors in this way." Sgt. Daniels was becoming irritated. He let the irritation creep into his voice when he continued. "So far, Mr. Aratama, you have said a lot of words, but never really said anything. If you would like, we can take you down town and question you there. I want some straight answers. Was Mr. Deguchi in any financial difficulty? Was he having any problems at work? Was he having any problems at home?" Mr. Aratama finally lost his smile. "Sgt. Daniels, it is not good to speak ill of the dead. The Japanese have a tradition of honoring the dead. It is very difficult for me to talk of these things. As far as I know Mr. Deguchi was not having any trouble at home. I do not know all of his financial dealings, but I do know he had borrowed a fairly large sum of money from the company. I'm sure someone can provide you with the exact amount if you are interested. As for having trouble at work, I must admit he was not one of our best employees. He had been in his position for a little over two years, but he never really seemed to understand all he needed to do." Daniels frowned, "Why would Mitsutronics keep him in that position if he weren't doing the job?" Mr. Aratama seemed nervous. "It is a difficult thing, Sgt. Daniels. Mr. Deguchi was the son of the president of one of our sister companies. We had talked to Mr. Deguchi on several occasions about his coming in late to work and leaving early, and about his inability to fully understand what was required of his position. We did not, however, want to anger his father. Either of these things could have caused him to do what he did." The rest of their conversation with Mr. Aratama was relatively unproductive. They asked him to arrange for them to speak with Mr. Deguchi's boss, but were told that the vice president Mr. Deguchi had reported to was out of town. Before they could ask anything else, the telephone rang and Mr. Aratama excused himself to answer it. He spoke rapidly in Japanese for a couple of minutes, then hung up the phone, smiling. "You are in luck, gentlemen. Our company president, Mr. Kiso Hirano has arrived, and has agreed to speak with you." They were escorted to one of the plushest offices either of the police officers had ever seen. It was on the 40th floor of Mitsutronics and for a moment it appeared they had stepped out of 21st century America and into 18th century Japan. The art that decorated the walls of the enormous room was all, Japanese. Thick carpets covered the floor, and intricate screens separated the room into different functional areas. Mr. Kiso Hirano greeted them at the door of the office and showed them to seats, which were actually large cushions, in what was obviously a conversational area. When they were seated and had again refused refreshments, Mr. Hirano assured them he had just heard they were here and apologized for the way they had been treated earlier. "I am always proud to help the police in any way I can," Mr. Hirano intoned. "I truly believe the police force is all that is standing between us and utter chaos. Anything I can do to help the protectors of our society, I will do gladly." Although he had assured them of how much he wanted to help, nothing he said was of any use to them. The continued talking with him for over half an hour, but nothing more came out. As they were leaving the building, Sgt. Daniels looked at his boss and grinned, "I don't know about you, but I think Mr. Hirano is one slimy bastard." Slavens laughed out loud. "My sentiments exactly. I think we'll have to keep an eye on Mr. Hirano." "Speaking of slimy bastards," Sgt. Daniels said. "Why didn't you tell me about the e-mail, and about Ms. Jones turning in her resignation? Where did you hear about this anyway?" "It was in the original police report, that Ms. Jones had interviewed with Al Green yesterday. I'm sorry I forgot to mention the e-mail." Sgt. Daniels wondered if his boss had really forgotten, or if he were trying to protect someone. ------- Chapter 14 Al and Bonnie had just finished dinner and were snuggling on the couch when the security system announced someone was at the door. When Al looked at the security monitor, he saw a large black man, holding up a policeman's shield. Al let him in and the man introduced himself as a detective Sgt. Daniels. When they were all seated, Sgt. Daniels removed a small notebook from his jacket pocket and said, "Lieutenant Slavens has told me a lot of what has been going on, but I would like to hear it from you. Start with the Japanese men who visited your brother before he was killed, and continue until the Jones woman's body was found this morning." Al and Bonnie took turns reciting the story of the last few days. When they came to be meeting with Katharine Jones, they portrayed it as being a recruitment meeting and didn't mention the dihedron virus. Al thought it would be better to get the hundred thousand dollars out in the open, so he told Sgt. Daniels about advancing the money to Ms. Jones. He told the sergeant that he had sent her the money personally, because the Finance vice-president's computer was down. Sgt. Daniels was skeptical and he didn't try to hide it from Al and Bonnie. "OK, Mr. Green, suppose I buy what you're saying. Why couldn't this lady have just waited for her money until she came to work for you, or and least until the computer at Modern Electronics was up and running again?" "Well, Sgt. Daniels," Al said. "Ms. Jones wanted the money before she turned in her resignation at Mitsutronics. It has happened in the past, especially in high-tech industries, that someone would be promised a job at a new company. The person would turn in their resignation, then the new company would change its mind. The old company would no longer want the individual because they knew the individual was looking and it would only be a matter of time before they left anyway. We are looking to start manufacturing our version of the dihedron. Ms. Jones was an expert in dihedron manufacturing. We needed her expertise and were willing to pay for it. We wanted her to start working for us as soon as possible, so I agreed to send the money myself. It's probably already back in my account, so it didn't really cost me anything." Sgt. Daniels leaned forward aggressively. "Something isn't right here, Mr. Green. This whole thing smells bad. If I were a betting man I'd wager you're trying to hide something here. I don't know what it is yet, but I will find out." Sgt. Daniels sat, staring at Al and Bonnie for a long time before saying anything else. It was an old trick, but usually an effective one. If you waited long enough, the person you were questioning would feel they had to say something. This could often be very revealing. This time though, it didn't have the desired effect. "Lieutenant Slavens tells me that you received an e-mail from Ms. Jones, saying that she had turned in her resignation at Mitsutronics. The personnel manager at Mitsutronics tells me they have gone through her boss's computer and there is no e-mail from her. How do you explain that, Mr. Green?" "I'll let you explain it, Sgt. Daniels," Al grinned. "The e-mail I received from her had the e-mail she sent to her boss has an attachment. It's still on my computer. I'd be happy to show it to you." Sgt. Daniels indicated that he would very much like to see the message in question, so Al took him over to his computer and brought up the e-mail. He showed him first the message that said she had turned in her resignation, then he brought up the e-mail she had sent her boss. He showed Daniels the time stamp, which showed she had sent the one to her boss at 8:01 PM yesterday and the one to him at 8:02 PM yesterday. For a moment Sgt. Daniels suspended his distrust of Al. "OK, Mr. Green, is there any way to tell where the message was sent from?" Al showed him the routing information, which had become so thorough over the years, it could even tell which computer on the local area network had sent the message. Sgt. Daniels thought for a moment, then asked, "Is there any way this routing can be faked?" "I suppose you could," Al said thoughtfully. "I have no idea how you would do it though. Why would anyone want to fake the routing on this?" Sgt. Daniels didn't know how much he wanted to tell them, but they seemed to be cooperative, so he decided to go with the flow. "When we were at Mitsutronics earlier, they told us Ms. Jones had not been in the building yesterday evening. They were very adamant about it and offered to show us the entry logs, and even show us the videos from the security cameras. Either someone faked the routing on your e-mail, or Mitsutronics is trying to cover up the fact that she was there. Frankly, right at this moment, I don't know who to believe." Saturday, August 18, 2035 It was just after 1:00 AM when the phone rang, waking Al and Bonnie from a sound sleep. They had gone to bed shortly after Sgt. Daniels had left. They made love, slowly and tenderly, enjoying each other to the fullest. They cuddled and petted and made love again. They had finally drifted off to sleep at around 11:30 PM, wrapped in each other's arms. Al was so startled by the telephone he knocked it off the bedside table in his haste to answer it. "Al Green speaking," he mumbled. "Did I wake you, Al," Lt. Slavens voice came from the phone. "This is getting to be a habit, Art. What the hell you want now?" Al asked, a little more coherently. Al could hear Lt. Slavens sigh into the telephone. "Al, I'm afraid there's been another murder. This time, one of the security guards here at Modern Electronics thinks the dead guy is Fred Nelson." "Oh my God! Fred is the vice president in charge of research and development. What happened?" Al asked. You could tell Slavens was under a lot of tension when he replied. "The body was found at the front door of Modern Electronics by one of the security guys. It was laid out in exactly the same manner as the Jones woman. The dismembered arms and legs were on either side of the body, and the severed head was sitting in the middle of the chest." "What the hell are we paying those damned security guys for?" Al was nearly screaming. "Are these guys blind or what? Why the hell didn't they see someone arranging body parts in front of the door?" "Don't be too hard on them, Al. They go on lunch break at midnight. The guys who dropped off the body had to know their routine. The security cameras caught everything on tape. A black Honda pulled up in front of the door at exactly 12:05 PM. Two men, dressed in black, with black hoods and gloves got out of the car and calmly started removing body parts and stacking them in front of the door. The whole thing couldn't have taken five minutes. Then, they just calmly got back into their car and drove away." Bonnie had awakened and now had her hand on Al's shoulder, realizing he was upset, but not knowing why. Al patted her hand then turned back to the phone. "OK, Art, what do you want from me?" Slavens sighed again. "Well, the security guard is a little iffy in his identification. Would you rather identify the guy, or should I call Mrs. Green?" "For God's sake don't call Linda. Where do you want me go?" Slavens seemed relieved. "The coroner hasn't arrived yet, and the body will be here for a while even after he comes. Why don't you come on down to Modern Electronics, and make the identification here?" As soon as he hung up the phone, Al got up and began dressing. Bonnie demanded to know what was going on and when Al told her, she began dressing as well. Al thought about arguing with her, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. Bonnie was visibly shaken as they made the drive to Modern Electronics. She held onto one of Al's hands, and was very quiet. When they pulled into the parking lot, it was as brightly lit as if it had been noon. They could see the pile of human body parts, and when Al instructed her to stay in a car she quietly complied. Lt. Slavens walked up as Al was getting of the car. Sgt. Daniels was not far behind. They walked with Al to the body, then seemed as relieved as he was to move away as soon as the identification was complete. They walked over to Art's unmarked police car, where Sgt. Daniels took up a position leaning against the passenger door of the car. Lt. Slavens was the first to speak. "Did you know this guy well, Al?" Al shook his head. "No, I was introduced to him, and I've seen him around the building here on many occasions. I was always with Sam though, and never really had any reason to talk with him. I do know he has a wife and kids. Has anyone contacted them?" Lt. Slavens waved his hand dismissively. "No, not yet. He had no identification on him, and the security guards didn't seem all that sure. We didn't want to call the wrong person. The security guards have addresses and phone numbers of all the company officers. We'll have someone go by and make the notification in a few minutes." "Mr. Green, was this guy involved in this dihedron mess you were telling me about earlier?" Sgt. Daniels asked. "Not to my knowledge, Sgt. Daniels. He would have been Ms. Jones's boss when she came to work for us, until we went into production, but as far as I know he had never even met her," Al answered. "Any idea why anyone would want to do this to him?" Sgt. Daniels continued his interrogation. "Not one. As I said, I hardly knew the man. Maybe Linda, my sister-in-law, will know more, but I would ask you to wait until morning before questioning her. She's been through an awful lot in the last few days." Lt. Slavens sighed and stretched. "I think questioning of anyone can wait until morning. It looks like they're taking the body away, so why don't we let these people go, and try to get some sleep ourselves?" Sgt. Daniels nodded his agreement, and everyone made their way back to their respective vehicles. Bonnie was waiting patiently for Al, but grabbed his hand as soon as he was in the car. They drove quickly back to Al's place, and quietly got ready for bed. The turned off the light at 2:30 AM, and held each other until they were both asleep. ------- Frank Faulkner awoke with a start. He thought he had heard something downstairs. He was always a light sleeper, probably from the many years he had spent in the Army. He slept even more lightly now since all the trouble had begun. He looked at to the clock beside his bed and saw that it read 3:35 AM He got quietly out of bed, picked up the shotgun leaning against the wall by his bedroom door, and walked quietly in the dark to the landing at the top of the stairs. He stopped and listened, but heard nothing. He was thinking he might have made a mistake, and was turning to go back to bed, when he heard a sound like something metallic hitting the glass pane in his front door. It was just a tap, but he heard it distinctly. He went down the stairs, stepping on the outside of each step, close to the banister. He hardly made any noise at all. He had reached the bottom of the stairs, and was at the door leading from the hallway into the living room when he distinctly heard the front door open. Whoever was opening the door was doing it very quietly, but Frank knew his home and all of the sounds it made. As he eased around the door into the living room, he could see two dark forms already through the front door, and halfway across the dark room. Frank leveled his shotgun and said, "Hold it right there." Almost immediately he heard a soft chug, almost like a cough, and felt something slam into his left shoulder. His shotgun when off reflexively, and one of the figures groaned and fell to the floor. The other figure turned and started toward the door. Frank tried to work the pump action of his shotgun, but for some reason his left arm wasn't working very well. He finally managed to bring another shell into the chamber, but the dark figure was already going through the door when he fired again. He thought he might have seen the person stumble, but wasn't sure. He could hear two women screaming from the bedrooms above. He was suddenly very tired, and slid down against the wall to a sitting position. He was unconscious before either of the women could reach him. Sally Faulkner was the first to reach her fallen husband's side, with her daughter, trailing close behind. They had turned on every light switch they had passed, and now the scene before them was starkly clear. Frank Faulkner lay in a pool of blood, just inside the living room. Sally had been an emergency room nurse for almost as long as her husband had been in the Army. She didn't panic when she saw her husband, but immediately knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. It was strong and regular, so she relaxed somewhat. She told her daughter to grab her some towels, then close the front door, and then call 911. As their daughter ran off to follow her mother's orders, Frank began to grown and his eyelids fluttered open. "I think I got one of them," he said. "I may have hit the other one too, but I'm pretty sure I got the first one." "Hush now," Sally soothed her husband. "Don't get all excited now, Frank. Yes, you did shoot someone and he's lying in the middle of the living room floor. Seems like you're always leaving things lying around that I have to pick up. " By the time her daughter arrived with the towels, Sally Faulkner had her husband's robe pulled off his injured shoulder and was looking at the entrance wound. It was smaller than she expected, and was high in the shoulder. She held a towel to the wound and applied pressure. She saw her daughter close the front door, then pick up the telephone to dial 911. "This is Linda Green. We need police and an ambulance at 461 West Foothills Road, in Walnut Creek. There were two intruders in our home. One of them shot my father and my father shot one of them. I think the one my father shot is dead." It was now 3:47 AM. ------- When the phone rang again, Al and Bonnie had been asleep for just over an hour. "What now?" Al muttered as he reached for the offending instrument. "Al Green speaking," he said sleepily into the mouthpiece. When Al heard who was on the other end of the line, he became immediately alert. Linda told him about what had happened, and he told her he would meet them at the hospital. When Bonnie heard the words shot and hospital, she immediately got up and started dressing. As soon as Al hung up the phone, she asked him what was going on. "Bonnie, Linda's father has been shot. I have to go to the hospital, but why don't you just stay here and get some rest?" Al said hurriedly as he began putting on his pants. "Al Green, you have to be nuts. With all the killing, shooting, beating, and cutting people up into little pieces, there's no way I'm going to stay here by myself. Is Linda's father OK?" Bonnie asked as she continued dressing. Al could see her point, so he didn't argue. "Linda doesn't really know how bad it is, but she said her mother didn't seem too upset, so she's assuming it isn't too bad." By now they were dressed, so Al grabbed Bonnie's hand and they headed out. The drive to the hospital took just over an hour. When they arrived at the hospital, Frank Faulkner was already in surgery. Sally told them she thought it was only a minor shoulder wound, and the emergency room doctor who had first looked at him concurred. They had taken X-rays, and learned that the bullet had broken his collarbone. While they waited for Frank to come out of surgery, Sally and Linda filled them in on everything that had happened. When they began to wind down, Al asked, "Did you take a look at the man Frank killed?" "I didn't look at him closely," Linda's replied. "I did check to see if he was really dead. He was an Oriental, late twenty's or early thirty's, dressed in loose fitting black shirt and pants. The police officer who came before we left said the pistol he had shot Dad with is a silenced, twenty-two caliber automatic." Al frowned. "From what I've read, that's called an assassins gun. Hired killers tend to use it because it is so quiet. You know, they were coming after you Linda, don't you?" Al went on to tell Linda and her mother what happened to Fred Nelson. Linda sat silently, slumped in her chair, looking so lost that Bonnie went over and sat beside her. She put arms around Linda, and held her for several minutes. Linda laid her head on Bonnie's shoulder and gave in to the tears that had been building up since she was awakened by the gunshots. When she finally quieted, Linda told Al and Bonnie about her meeting with Fred Nelson, the day before. Al was surprised to see Lt. Slavens come into the waiting room. "What took you so long?", he asked, knowing the answer before the question was even asked. "This ain't my jurisdiction. Besides that it's a long way up here to the boondocks, and I had some calls to make before I got here." Slavens slumped into a chair across from Al. "I know it isn't your jurisdiction, Art. I was just pulling your chain. I do appreciate your being here. How did you even find out about it?" Al wondered. Art sighed. "I heard about it on my police scanner, just as I was getting ready for bed. I recognized Linda's father's name, so I thought I'd better get up here. The police chief here in Walnut Creek is an old friend of mine. I told him everything that had been going on, and arranged for some police protection for Linda and her family." Al breathed a sigh of relief. "I really appreciate that. I'm going to be worried sick about her until all this is over." Art's mood seemed to brighten. "There will be two officers who will stay here in the hospital until Mr. Faulkner goes home. There will be three or four officers at the Faulkner home until all of this is over. These won't be rookie cops. The chief assures me he will send out the members of the anti-terrorist squad. Most of these guys were Marines before they became police officers." Al was a little relieved that Linda would have some additional protection. He hated to put her through it, but he knew Lt. Slavens needed to know about yesterday's meeting. "Linda, I think you should tell Art about your meeting with Nelson yesterday. I think his killing and the break-in where you were staying were connected." Linda told Art the whole story, and they all waited while he digested it. He was still thinking when a doctor in green hospital scrubs came into the waiting room. The doctor went straight to Sally Faulkner. "Ma'am, your husband is going to be fine. We had to go in to remove the bullet, and to clean up the mess it made, but other than a broken collarbone and some bone fragments it wasn't too bad. We spliced the collarbone with a plastic sleeve to accelerate healing and closed him up." "When can we see him, doctor?" Sally asked. "Well, why don't you give him about an hour to recover from the anesthetic, then you can go on down to his room. I'll look in again later today to see how he's doing." He didn't even wait for an answer, but turned on his heel and strode out of the waiting room. They waited the hour, then began to go in, two at a time to see him. When it was Al's turn, he and Bonnie entered the room, quietly, not knowing what to expect. Frank was sitting up in bed with a big smile on his face. He held out his hand to Al, then smiled at Bonnie. "This must be the lady I've been hearing about," he said. "I can see why everyone is so sure she's going to be the one to trap you." Bonnie seemed embarrassed, but Al just smiled and let him have his fun. "Hey, Al, did you hear I got one of them?" he asked. Before Al could answer, he went on. "Yes sir, It was all those years of military training that came into play. When I felt his puny little bullet hit my shoulder, I knew I'd been shot, so I just squeezed one off and hit him dead center." Linda's mother had stayed with her husband, and now she couldn't keep quiet any longer. "More like his bullet made your finger jerk, and you just happened to hit him." "No way Sweetie," Frank protested. "I hit him dead center. It's the training I tell you." "With that blunderbuss you were using, it'd have been hard to miss him." The words were rough, but Al could see the sparkle of mirth in her eyes and hear the pride in her voice. "What scares me, Frank, is if the bullet had been just a few inches lower, or higher, you'd have been in the morgue the same as he is. You should have called 911 when you heard something, not tried to be a hero." Sally had become serious when she said this, and Frank seemed to know it. He too, became serious when he answered her. "Sweetie, when I woke up I wasn't sure if I'd heard anything or not. I wasn't sure until I was going into the living room. By then it was too late to call anyone." They talked for a few minutes, then Al and Bonnie excused themselves. When they got back to the waiting room, Al beckoned Linda and Art to come over. "I have some more information I received from Hak, and some of it I can't make heads or tails of. Can we all get together this evening and go over it?" They all agreed to meet at Al's place at 8:00 PM. Lt. Slavens made sure that Linda had an escort back to her parent's place, and that the men were in place to protect her. Everyone decided they needed sleep, and headed off to their respective homes. All that is, except Lt. Slavens. When Al pulled out of the hospital parking lot, he saw Slavens souped up vehicle pull in behind him. It was comforting to know they had an escort too. ------- Chapter 15 Al awoke slowly without opening his eyes. He stretched, luxuriating in the warm sunlight that was bathing his body. As he slowly opened his eyes, he could see Bonnie, leaning on one elbow. She had evidently been watching him sleep. "It's about time you woke up, sleepy head," she smiled. "What time is it," he asked sleepily. "It's almost 5:30," she informed him. "Remember, everyone is going to come over at 8:00 PM." Now Al was smiling. "Gee, that gives us a good two and half hours to enjoy ourselves." He grabbed her and pulled her to him. She pretended to fight, but was giggling like a child. They spent about an hour and a half right where they were, but hunger finally overcame them and they reluctantly got up and prepared a light meal. By the time the rest of the group arrived, they were bathed and respectably clothed. Linda was the first to arrive. Her two bodyguards took up a position outside, and refused to, come in, even after Al had invited them. Linda seemed to be in a good mood, even with all that had happened. When questioned, she informed them that her father was doing well, and in a better mood than she had seen him in since he retired. "It's almost like this brush with death made him feel more alive. Even Mom is acting differently. She's much more playful with Dad, and I'd swear she's even acting sexy." Al and Bonnie were laughing by this time. "You know, sometimes it takes almost losing something before you realize how important it is to you. Your mother and father are lucky. They learned a lesson without the cost being too great to pay," Al said. When Lt. Slavens arrived, Linda had to repeat the story to him. They all got a good laugh about Linda's parent's antics, but then as if on cue, they became serious. Al set up a conference with Hak on one of his computers. They had invited Hak to attend in person, but he had flatly refused. When they were all seated comfortably, Al brought out the copies of the documents Hak had sent them. They started going through them one by one. The first thing they could see appearing over and over again was references to the date of August 6th, 2045. "Several of these sheets seem to be projections based on the 2045 date," Linda informed them. "This one, for example, is a projection of holdings in the banking industry." "Yeah, I was noticing that this one seems to be the same kind of projection in the transportation area," Bonnie agreed. "If these are projections of what will be owned or controlled by this conglomerate in that year, the figures are truly staggering." "Is there anything in here that shows what they own or control today?" Al asked. "As a matter of fact there is," Linda said as she riffled through a stack of paper. "These papers here show figures for the current date." Al looked thoughtful. "How these figures compare with what you put together when you were going through and trying to figure out the overlapping companies?" "The figures we have on the sheets do not show specific companies owned. They are at best a summary," Linda replied. For the first time, Hak spoke up. "I may be able to help out a little with that. But I have a much bigger list of the companies owned or controlled by this Gonnosuke outfit. I'll send it across right now. " Linda began grabbing the pages as they came off the printer. She started making notes in the margins alongside each entry. Bonnie was looking over her shoulder. All at once, Bonnie grabbed for one of the sheets, almost tearing it out of Linda's hand. She looked at it from moment becoming obviously more excited with each passing second. "I've seen these five digit code numbers before," she said excitedly. "Al, where is that list of senators and congressman Hak sent us?" Al began to look around. "Here it is," he said, handing it to her. Bonnie to looked at it, then nearly screamed. "I knew it!" She handed the list back to Al and pointed at the list of names and the five digit numbers that followed them. "You can see that each name is followed by a five digit number." She handed him the other sheet that they had just received. "The first column on this page is a list of the same five digit numbers. The second column is a list of six digit numbers. These are probably dates. If you look at them they have like 031433, which would be March 14, 2033. The third column is obviously dollar amounts." Bonnie sat down with a thump in a chair that was fortunately behind her. "Hey guys, please don't think I'm crazy. I did a lot of stories about the Congress when I was first starting out. This last column is a list of House and Senate bills. You can see each entry starts with an HB or an SB. I think the congressmen on the first list are being paid off to vote a particular way on each of these bills. We even have the dates they were paid and how much." Bonnie had their full attention. Only Linda seemed to be ignoring her, and was still making notes in the margins of the other sheets they had received. "This is the biggest story I have ever seen, let alone written," she enthused. "This is going to set Congress on its ear." "Don't you think you're going off a little half-cocked on this?" Slavens asked. "Even in this day and age, when the news media can run roughshod over just about anyone it wants, there is still such a thing as libel." "I know all about libel," Bonnie said in an exasperated tone. "There is an awful lot of this I can prove. When everyone got tired of all the corruption in government, and forced their legislators to pass the anti-corruption bills of 2015, they made it a lot easier to get information about public officials. There were a lot of new treaties signed that year as well. Even the Swiss government forced its banking establishment to give out information on accounts held by United States elected officials. If I can cross reference to any of these dollar amounts into deposits made by even one of these officials, I have enough to back me up in printing a story." Bonnie turned to Al. "Could I use one of your computers?" she asked. "I'd like to get started digging into these payments." Al nodded his agreement, and pointed to one of the computers that was not being used. "I just hope you know what you're getting into," he said. Everything got quiet for a few minutes. Al and Lt. Slavens moved away from the two women and carried on a muttered conversation. Linda and Bonnie were so busy with what they were doing they didn't even notice the men were gone. It was a least a half-hour later when Linda raised her head and looked around. She gave out a big sigh, got up from her seat, and walked over to where the two men were now drinking coffee. "Well," Linda said, "I don't know if the percentages are correct, but these people own or control a very large number of companies. It looks like they're into banking, transportation, agriculture, food preparation and storage, the computer industry, and manufacturing in general. They also control a large amount of the oil reserves in this country." Al shook his head. "There's nothing illegal about that is there?" he asked. "Not a thing," Linda answered. "The scary thing is, what are they going to do with all this power and control they have? Also, why is the date in 2045 so important? Is this really the hundredth anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima?" Again they heard Hak's voice coming from the large speaker array surrounding Al's computer systems. "Oh, man, where the hell's my brain? There's one more file I found. This one was a real doozy. It was doubled encrypted. You had to run it through one decryption program, then take the results and ran them through another one. I'll send it on over. I think it explains a lot though. It talks about a hundred-year plan." They waited while the printer spit out several more sheets of paper. As the pages came off the printer, Linda became more and more excited. When she had finished scanning the last one, she turned to Al. "You know, it never really says here in so many words exactly what they are going to do. But it's clear this hundred-year plan is geared toward revenge for what happened at Hiroshima. The tone of this document is entirely contemptuous of all that is American." "Absolutely," Al said. He patted Bonnie, who was still digging into the congressional payoffs, on the shoulder and said, "You really should take a look at this, sweetheart. This is probably the best example of hate propaganda since they brought the skinheads and KKKers under control." Bonnie reluctantly left her computer terminal and started reading the document. When she was about halfway through, she looked up and said, "You know, it's really a shame I can't print any of this. The laws concerning the defamation of anyone born in another country have really gotten tight all the last few years. Maybe I should look into that. These characters may be the ones who got all that legislation passed." "I wouldn't be a bit surprised", Al told her. "This seems to be a lot bigger than we ever imagined. What I'm wondering now is where do we go from here. " "I've been thinking about the same thing", Lt. Slavens told them. "As a police lieutenant I have very little clout when it comes to political issues. I'm sure that Al, being a games programmer, has as little as I do. Does anyone have any suggestions as to who we should report this to and how we should go about it?" "I think I may an idea about who to talk to", Bonnie informed them. "Before we get into that though, I think we need to carefully go over what we've learned. We need to decide what we can prove, and what we only suspect." "OK," Al said. "Let's recap what we have so far. First, we have a list of Congressman, House and Senate bills, and the dollar amounts. Bonnie is going to check to see if she can find any correlation between a dollar amounts and deposits in the congressman's accounts. If she can find any correlation, this is one thing we can prove." Al reached for his coffee cup and finding it was empty asked if anyone else would like a cup. When Al had returned with a fresh cup of coffee for himself, and another for Lieutenant Slavens, he continued. "We can prove that a virus is placed on every computer that uses a dihedron. We can prove that this virus will effectively destroy any computer it is on when a command is sent to that computer by modem. In my opinion, this, in itself, would wreck Mitsutronics." Al took another sip of his coffee and continued. "I will bow to Linda's judgment on this, but it seems to me we would have a strong antitrust suit if we can prove that all of these companies are inter-linked." Linda nodded her head. "The problem is, Al, we can prove the linkage to our satisfaction, but proving it in a court of law is another matter. It can be done though. The ownership of the companies is a matter of public record. We would need a team of people to go through all of the public records. We can shorten the amount of time it will take them though by giving them a family tree of the companies." Al spoke up again. "In other words, it's just a matter of getting a team together, and setting them in motion. Does anyone have any idea how we can go about setting up such a team?" Bonnie finally spoke up, "You know guys, I did a story a couple of years ago about the antitrust laws. They have been watered down so much a over the years, it is very difficult to get someone convicted of an antitrust violation. I think it's worth the effort to put together all of the information and turn it in to the proper authorities, but I'm not sure we will get a conviction on it. " Linda was nodding her head. "I tend to agree with Bonnie, but I think I will run this by the legal department down at the plant. I'm sure we're going to be in some lawsuits about the polyhedrons anyway, and even if we can get an antitrust convection, it could prove to be valuable leverage when we are sued by Mitsutronics. I'll have the legal department set up the team to start working on this tomorrow. " "OK," Lt. Slavens asked, "What else do we have?" "Art, I think that everything else is of a criminal nature, and is best investigated by you and Sgt. Daniels," Al told him. "I guess you're right, Al," Lt. Slavens admitted. "I'd rather you and the two lovely ladies wouldn't get any further involved in anything that might be even slightly dangerous. " "So," Al asked, "Bonnie is going to continue checking out the political corruption angle; Linda is going to work on the antitrust angle; and Art is going to look into the criminal cases. Where does that leave me?" Bonnie grabbed Al by the arm, and hugged it to her. "You can help me with some of the computer hacking if you will," she told him. "You and Hak both for that matter. I'm going to need all the help I can get before I'm through. " "I will be glad to help you in any way I can," Hak's disembodied voice came to the computer speakers. "I would also like to check into this Kiso Hirano though. I know I'm just a computer hacker, but it seems to me of that everything ties back to this one guy. I don't know if any of the rest of you noticed it or not, but this guy is on the board of directors of every one of the companies we have been able to tie together. He is also the president and the principal stockholder of Mitsutronics. If there's any one person who has to know what is going on with all of this, it is Hirano." "I think you have something there, Hak," Bonnie said thoughtfully. "This guy may be key to everything. Finding out about Mr. Hirano should be your first priority. Everyone of us is going to need information about this guy for our cases. " Lt. Slavens yawned and stretched. "Do you good people realize it's almost 1:00 AM? I don't know about the rest of you, but my old butt it is dragging. Why don't we break off, work on the things we talked about, and get together again the day after tomorrow and discuss what we've found?" After everyone had left Al and Bonnie sat around talking for several minutes, then, made their way into the loft, hand in hand. Sunday, August 19, 2035 Al was again awakened by the morning sunlight streaming in through the sky light above his bed. He lay there for several minutes luxuriating in the feel of the sun's of warmth on his body and the feel of the wonderfully soft and rounded body next to him. He didn't move until he felt Bonnie begin to move. "This is the life," he thought. "A beautiful day and a beautiful woman beside me." Bonnie opened her eyes and Al smiled at her. "Good morning beautiful," he said as he bent to kiss her. Bonnie smiled and stretched, her arms surrounding his neck. "Good Morning yourself, handsome man," she said as she raised her lips to his. They made love slowly and gently, but passionately. They enjoyed the feel of the sun and in the feel each other's bodies. They took their time and when they were finally spent, laid together for a long time soaking up the sun and allowing it to rejuvenate them. When they finally felt like moving, they took a long relaxing shower together, with lots of wet slippery fun. After they had dressed, they went down to the kitchen and started breakfast. Breakfast was a cooperative effort, and they were soon seated at the small dining table and enjoying the fruits of their labor. At first their breakfast conversation was about inconsequential things, like what they liked and places they'd been. Soon, however, it turned to their problems with the Japanese. As they discussed what they had learned and what they suspected, Al could see that Bonnie was anxious to begin her research. They soon adjourned to Al's computers where each began digging into their own areas of interest. Bonnie decided to contact Hak and soon had him on the modem line. >> Hak, I just wanted to get your advice on something. >> Before we get started on that, would you like to hear what I have learned so for about Hirano, Bonnie? >> Don't you ever sleep Hak? Sure let me get Al. >>OK, Al is here. Tell us what you have. >> Good morning Al. I've been doing a little digging, and I've come up with a few interesting tidbits. OK, here goes. >> First, I went on the pig net, and I don't find any record of this guy even getting a parking ticket. >> Next, I searched the court records back as far as they are computerized. No civil suits have ever been filed against him. >> I managed to get his tax returns for the last 10 years, don't ask me how, he has filed a return every year, and paid in a substantial amount each year. Squeaky clean as far as the IRS goes. >> He has a AAA credit rating, and one bank account that has a balance in the six-figure range. If he has any other accounts they are offshore and I haven't been able to find them as yet. >> I haven't been able to find if he as a member of any clubs or organizations. Believe me, I've checked every one of them I could think of. >> I have only been able to find two pieces of property in his name. There is a 5 acre plot, with a house, that seems to be his primary residence. There is also a 45 acre plot. This one has one building which is listed as being an office and exercise facility. >> Outwardly this man is a perfect citizen. He pays his taxes and has never been in any trouble. >> What about family? Bonnie wanted to know. >> He has one brother, named Muso, and one daughter. His wife died about five years ago. Al and Bonnie were silent for several minutes thinking about what Hak had told them. Finally Bonnie spoke up. >> Hak, I need you to do something else for me. Do you still have your list of the congressman? >> Yes, Bonnie, I do. >> OK, I would like for you to start looking for foreign and domestic bank accounts for these congressmen. I need to know if you can find any accounts that show deposits matching the dollar amounts on the list you have. >> I hope you know that's going to take some time, Bonnie. Domestic accounts are easy, but the foreign accounts can be really nasty. Even if you can get by the language differences, accounts are set up differently in almost every country. >> I know it's a big problem, Hak, and I'll understand if you can't find anything. If I were you, I'd start with the Caiman Islands. That seems to be where most illegal accounts are being set up these days. Since there is so much Japanese influence here, you might try Japan as well. >> Bonnie, do you mind if I have someone else check into the Japanese banking? >> I don't suppose so, Hak, as long as you tell them as little as possible about what's going on. Did you have someone in mind? >> I have this friend, who is a senior at Cal State. She is majoring in the Japanese language. She wants to be an interpreter when she graduates. She is also very good with computers. >> Do I detect an interest that goes beyond computers here, Hak? >> Uh, yeah, there is on my part of least. We haven't actually met yet, but we've been talking on the Net for several months. Bonnie couldn't help but giggle. She reached out and took Al's hand. >> And you're thinking this might be the perfect excuse to meet in person? Hak didn't answer. As a silence grew, Bonnie finally continued. >> OK, Hak, I understand. Try to get back to us as soon as you can. Even if you can only find one connection let me know, then I can start writing my article. >> I'll do that Bonnie. I'll tell my friend this as a rush. You know if it were me I would never asked for money, but can I tell her there might be a reward for a quick response? Bonnie looked over at Al, and he nodded. >> Yes, you can tell her that. Al assures me there will be a reward. >> OK, Bonnie, I'll get right on it. I'll call you guys tonight and you know what we find out. ------- Chapter 16 During Bonnie's conversation with Hak, Al had been doing a lot of thinking. He was toying with the virus program Hak had deciphered, and was thinking all of the ramifications of what the program could do if it were executed. In the mid 21st century, almost everything was run or controlled by computers. Every personal-computer he knew of used dihedrons for permanent or semi permanent data storage. Even the large mainframes tended to use dihedrons, due to their small size and large storage capacity. The really large computers used trays of dihedrons with automatic sequencers which moved the correct crystal into and out of the reader. This meant that nearly every computer in the United States was infected with the virus. Al started making a list of the various functions that would be shut down if the virus were activated. - Stock-market - Banking - Transportation - Manufacturing - Retail sales - Communications - Hospitals When Bonnie had completed her conversation with Hak, Al turned to her with a very worried expression on his face. "Sweetheart, now I'm really scared. This is a list of some of the things that would be shut down if these bastards send out their code word. When you think about it, there are very few computers in this country that do not use dihedrons. Nearly every one of them are also connected to a phone line by modem. Only the computers that do not use dihedrons, or that are not connected to a modem would be safe. " Bonnie frowned and brushed the hair back from her eyes. "Wouldn't they have to call each of these computers individually though, before the virus would take effect?" "Yes, they would. However, if they set up a computer to do it for them, it could be done relatively quickly. I figure it would take about five seconds for a computer to dial a number, wait for the connection, then send the one word message. A single computer would be able to send the message to 12 computers every minute. That would be 720 computers it could infect in an hour, or 17,280 infections in one day. As big as this thing is, they could have a hundred computers, or a thousand computers making calls. All they would have to do would be to give each computer a different list of computers to call. " Now Bonnie looked frightened. "Oh my God! I never thought of it that way. With a hundred computers doing the calling they would be able to infect 72,000 computers in one hour. In other words, they could totally cripple the United States, in less than an hour, using the virus program alone. " "You know, Bonnie, I'll bet they have those computers in place right now, with a default activation set for exactly 100 years after the bombing of Hiroshima. I would also bet they have a code word they could send to those computers which would activate them at any time. We have to be extremely careful here, that we don't force them into an early activation. We need to talk about your story about the congressmen before you submit it. Now, I'm afraid it might cause them to prematurely activate their virus, if they think we're getting too close to them. " "I don't know, Al. That would go against everything I had ever been taught about being a journalist. The people of the United States have a right to know if their representatives are corrupt. I understand where you're coming from, but it just doesn't seem right to withhold that kind of information. " "Sweetheart, we are in over our heads here. We should probably take this to the FBI or something, but if they have congressmen in their pockets, they may also have FBI agents or even the director of the FBI on their payroll. We need advice, but who can we trust to give it to us?" "Al, I'm afraid I don't have any contacts who could help us. You know anyone we could really trust with this kind of information?" "I'm afraid I know very few people actually, Bonnie. I don't normally hang around people with authority. I hate to say this, but the only person I can think of who might know the kind of people we need advice from, is my father. My father and I don't have a good relationship. " "Don't you think he would put aside your differences if we told him what was going on?" "Yes, Bonnie, I think he would. I guess I'm just being childish, not wanting to ask him for advice. I should probably drive out there this afternoon and have a talk with him. Maybe, asking for his advice, would mend some other fences as well. " "If you go, I'm going with you. I would like to meet him, and get to know him. That is, unless you think I'm being too pushy." Bonnie giggled. "After all, I don't want to scare you off. " Al reached for Bonnie, and drew her to him, his arms circling her lovingly. "There's not much chance of that, sweetheart. It's going to take something like finding out you are an axe murderer before I get scared off. " They sat snuggling for a few minutes, trying to forget about the Japanese completely. It was no use though, harsh reality kept intruding on their thoughts. After a few hugs and some tender kisses they went back to their research. Al was restless and couldn't really concentrate on what he was trying to do. Before long he gave it up completely, picked up the phone, and dialed his father's number. The elder Mr. Green answered on the first ring. Al told him he would like to come out in a couple of hours, and he would be bringing some others with him. His father wanted to know what it was all about, but all Al would tell him was that it concerned Sam's death. Mr. Green agreed to see them, so Al immediately called Linda, and then Lt. Slavens, to see if they could meet him there. Both agreed to be there in 2 hours time. Linda and Slavens were already at the Green residence when Al and Bonnie arrived. Evidently Mr. Green had been trying to find out what the meeting was about, but Linda and Slavens wouldn't say anything until the new couple arrived. After they were seated on the patio and Mr. Green had brought iced tea for everyone, Al told him everything they had learned. He didn't hold back anything. He could see his father was visibly shaken by the information. For once, Mr. Green did not question the validity of the information his son had given him. Al was surprised, and greatly pleased, that his father believed him, even when the story was as fantastic as the one he had just told. Over the next hour, Mr. Green asked each of them many questions, wanting specific details, and explanations of some of the things he had been told. He drew them out and soon had as clear a picture as any of them about what was going on. "So, what do you want from me?" he asked, looking at each of them in turn. "Dad, we're in over our heads here. We know what's going on, and we can prove most of it. None of us are in and a position though to do anything about it. Bonnie here is writing an expose about the congressmen who are on the take, but we're not even sure she should release it. My concern is that it might push these people into prematurely activating their plan. We need advice, and we need someone in authority who we can contact without having to worry they might be on the take. " Mr. Green chuckled. "You know, son, I have never hesitated to give you advice, and you have never hesitated to ignore it. Maybe I'm a little more qualified to give you advice on some aspects of this than I am on your personal life. I'd agree with you that releasing a story right now could cause these bastards to react by activating their plan. When you tell me they can shut down the stock exchange and banking, it scares the hell of me. This is something my colleagues and I have discussed for years. Our economy would be destroyed in minutes. If everything were shut down for even a day or two, it would take years for the economy to recover. We want to be able to insure they can't react before they find out we're on to them. " Mr. Green sat quietly for several minutes, deep in thought. "I don't really know anyone who has the direct authority to help us. I do have a friend who is a criminology professor at the University who I would trust implicitly. He is a former FBI agent, and was on the detail that protected our last president. He knows a lot of people, and has a personal relationship with the former president. Would any of you mind if I invited him over and filled him in on the situation?" Everyone agreed to invite the man over. Soon Mr. Green was on the phone talking with his friend. Al was proud to see his father was very cautious in what he said over the phone. When the former FBI agent arrived, Mr. Green introduced him as Glen Wright. After some small talk, they were soon on a first name basis with the former agent. Al liked him immediately, and when he glanced over at Slavens, the police Lt. gave him a brief nod. The former agent sat quietly while Al told him about everything that had happened, everything they knew, and everything they thought they knew. He didn't interrupt once until the narrative was finished. "How much of this can you prove," he asked the four young people? "To be honest with you, Glen, most of this information would not stand up in a court of law. A big part of it was obtained by hacking into the computer systems of some of the main companies that are involved. As evidence in court, it is worthless, but we are trying to corroborate the information through legal means. " The former agent smiled and shook his head. "The legality of the information is not nearly as important to me at this time as is the validity of the information. From what I can see, if we took this to court, it would precipitate exactly what we are trying to prevent. " Al was surprised the agent had understood so quickly the ramifications of the situation. "If you would be willing to stop by my place tomorrow, Mr. Wright, we can show you all the documents we currently have. By that time, we may even have some proof about the complicity of the congressmen involved." "How about first thing in the morning," the agent asked? "The earlier the better," Al told him. "We need to get moving on this as soon as possible. " "I'll see you at 8:00 AM then," the former agent told them. He soon excused himself assuring Al he would see him the following day. Shortly thereafter four young people excused themselves as well. Mr. Green asked Al to stay behind for a few minutes. When Linda and Slavens had left, Bonnie asked if she should wait in the car. The older Mr. Green shook his head and smiled. "No, my dear, from what I hear I may be talking to the future Mrs. Al Green anyway. You may as well hear what I have to say. " Bonnie blushed furiously. "I haven't caught him yet Mr. Green. " "My son isn't an idiot," Mr. Green told her. "I'm sure he's smart enough to know something good when he finds it, or in this case, her." Again, blushing furiously, Bonnie thanked him. The elder Mr. Green then turned to his son. "I've been pretty hard on you over the years, Al. When I look back at it, I wonder why you kept in touch with me at all. I don't agree with the career you chose, but since you chose it, I should've accepted it without question. I want to apologize to you for all of my nagging, and for making it uncomfortable for you to be around me. If you will give me a second chance, I will do my best to make it up to you. " There were tears in his eyes when Al reached for his father's hand. "Dad, there is nothing in this world I would like better than to feel close to you again. We are both going to miss Sam an awful lot. Maybe we can help each other get through this." The elder Mr. Green used his handshake to pull his son into a tight hug. Al was amazed because his father had always been uncomfortable when he had tried to hug him in the past. Monday, August 20, 2035 Al was awakened to the light lyrical sound of a concerto written by Antonio Vivaldi, coming from the speaker at the head of his bed. When he had not turned off the alarm within five minutes, the music changed to a nerve jangling hard rock. At this point Al turned off the alarm. Had he not done so within the next five minutes after the rock music started, an earsplitting siren would have followed. When he looked to his left, he could see Bonnie smiling at him, her hair tousled, but shining radiantly in the morning sun. "This isn't nearly as nice of a way to wake up as the way we woke up yesterday." Bonnie yawned and stretched, then rolled over, placed her left hand behind his neck, and drew him into a passionate kiss. "I don't know about that," she said when they broke from the kiss. "That seemed pretty nice to me." "It seemed pretty nice to me, too. The only problem is we have to get up. Mr. Wright should be here shortly." "You know, I've been looking for Mr. Wright all of my life. I think I've finally met him," she said with a giggle. Al grabbed her and started tickling. They wrestled around on the bed for several minutes, groping, tickling, and kissing. Finally, Al realized they barely had time to dress and get a pot of coffee going, before Mr. Wright would be arriving. Reluctantly he broke away and began getting ready for the day. Al and Bonnie were seated at the table having their first cup of coffee, when the door alarm announced a visitor at precisely 8:00 AM. Al went to the monitor, and buzzed Mr. Wright in. Al greeted the former agent at the door, and escorted him to the table where Bonnie had already gotten him a cup of coffee. After a couple of minutes of small talk, the former agent got right to the point. "You have any printouts of the things we were discussing last night?" Al walked over to his primary printer, and retrieved a stack of printouts he had started before going to bed. He brought these over to Mr. Wright and said, "This is everything we have at present. We have a team of researchers working to verify the interconnecting companies through public records. We also have a team of researchers attempting to verify payments to the congressmen through bank records. Bonnie is trying to find any connection between the congressmen and anyone who works for any of the companies on our list." "That's all well and good," Mr. Wright told them. "But, as I told you last night, the accuracy of the information is more important to me than the legality of how it was obtained." "What are you going to do next," Bonnie asked? "Well, Bonnie, I'm going to show this information to some people I know. I won't tell you who just yet, but it will be people I trust and who will be able to do something to help. " "OK, I can respect that. We are working with other people as well, and we wouldn't want to give you their names either. How do we contact you if we come up with anything else?" Mr. Wright gave them his home phone number, fax number, cell phone number, and pager number. They briefly went over some of the information they had given him, but soon Mr. Wright was on his way. After Mr. Wright had left, Al established a voice modem connection with Hak. "Good Morning, Hak. I just wanted to see if you had come up with anything yet about the Congressmen." "Good Morning, Al. My friend tells me she has one positive, and two more possibles. I haven't been able to come up with anything in either the United States, or the Caiman Islands. " Al briefly told him about the meeting the previous evening with the former FBI agent. He didn't go into details, but wanted to keep Hak in the loop. "Do you have anything else for me, Hak?" "As a matter of fact, I do. I was playing around a little more with the dihedron virus. I found another file that is changed when the dihedron is used. This one seems to be a kind of dead man's switch. It checks to see if there is a modem in the computer, and if there is, it dials a specific number once a week. If for some reason it can't reach the number, it starts the other program, and wipes out the computers hard drive." "Oh, my God. Devious bastards, aren't they? This might be an advantage to us though. Did you make a note of the number it dials?" "Yes I did, Al. Do you want it now?" "No, but there is something else I would like for you to do. Would you try to hack into the computer that is connected to that number? I would like for you to look for a program which dials multiple phone numbers and sends out the command which causes the computer to erase it's hard drive. " "I'm one step ahead of you, Al. This number actually rings into a server which is tied to over a hundred computers networked together. One main computer responds to all incoming calls. Each of the computers on the network have their own dedicated line for placing out going calls." "OK, that makes sense. That way, the dihedrons all have the same program, with the same number to dial. Since the main computer only has to respond to any one computer once each week, it has plenty of time to service all of them. The multiple out going lines will allow them to quickly shut down everything. Can you get me a list of all of the outgoing phone numbers?" "Not a problem, boss. I already have it. I'll send you the file when we hang up. I thought you might also be interested in the message the main computer sends back when one of the other computers contacts it. I'll send that long too." "I don't know what I'd do without you, Hak. I really appreciate this." "Al, I have to say you help make things interesting for me. Please let me know what's happening on this." "I sure will, Hak. Right now everything is in the hands of this former FBI agent. I have some ideas about how to use the information you just gave me to prevent the computer takeover from taking place. I'll contact the FBI guy this evening, and see what he can do to help." "OK, guy, I'm going to hang up and contact my friend to see what she's finding out. I'll talk to you later." Al saw that Bonnie had been listening to the conversation. "So, what are your ideas about preventing this takeover?" she asked. "It will take some cooperation from the phone company, but it would seem like a relatively simple thing to switch the phone line which goes to the responding computer to one of ours. We could then set up a computer to make the appropriate responses. At the same time, the phone company would need to turn off service to all of the other computers on Hak's list. With modern switching technology this could all be done in a heartbeat." "The only problem I see with that, is that we do not know who can be trusted at the phone company," Bonnie said. "I'm going to leave that for Glen Wright to figure out," Al told her. "I think we should call him later this afternoon and let him know about our latest findings. We'll probably need to meet him somewhere to pass over the phone list." That evening they met with Mr. Wright, after first having set up an appointment with him by phone. He seemed excited by the latest information, and assured them he would be no problem to get something set up with a telephone company. "I made a phone call today," he told them. "I have an appointment tomorrow to see someone who I'm sure will be able to get the ball rolling. I can't tell you who it is yet, because I don't have his permission to do so. As soon as I have his permission I will tell you who it is." They soon broke up, with Al and Bonnie returning to Al's apartment to prepare dinner. They spent a quiet evening trying to forget about everything that was going on, and went to bed early. ------- Chapter 17 Tuesday, August 21, 2035 When Al and Bonnie awoke the next morning, they immediately contacted Hak to see what else he might have found out. There were pleasantly surprised to learn that his friend had been able confirm payments to the other two congressmen who had been possibles the day before. She has also found and confirmed payments to two others. After a brief but friendly conversation with Hak, they hung up and fixed themselves a light breakfast. While they were eating, Bonnie asked. "What are your plans for today, Al?" "I don't really know, sweetheart. There's really not much I can do until I hear back from Mr. Wright. Did you have something you wanted to do?" "Well, yes, I do. I'd like to go down to the paper, and talk with my boss for a while. I don't intend to tell him everything, only about the congressmen who are on the take. I want to know what his feelings are about the liabilities we might be faced with if we print the story. I'll tell him they are receiving payments from a special interest group, and I won't let him draw me out any further." "Are you sure it's a good idea to talk with him at all? I don't want these people to know we suspect anything as yet." "Al, I would trust my boss with my life. He was an old friend of my father's, and I've known him almost all of my life." "OK, I'll get dressed and we can leave as soon and as you're ready." "Not on your life, buster. This is something I have to do by myself. I'll take a cab, and check-in with Lt. Slavens before I leave and as soon as I arrive. I'll be perfectly safe, and I don't want to hear any more argument from you." Al laughed."You sure are a hard lady to get along with at times. All I ask is that you please be careful. Now that I've found you, I don't want to lose you." Bonnie giggled with then kissed him lightly on the lips. "I have no intention of looking like you did when I first met you in the hospital. As for losing me, don't think you're going to get rid of me that easily. I'd plan to be around for a long time." Al knew when to give up gracefully. He couldn't help but worry though as he watched her climb into a cab a little over an hour later. After he had watched it pull away, he booted up one of his computers and started making a list of everything they had learned to date. Bonnie arrived at work without incident, and immediately went in search of her boss. She found him and his office, laying back in his chair, his feet on his desk, reading potential articles for the next day's paper. Bonnie's boss, Dave Wilson, was an old school newspaperman. As the editor-in-chief, he wanted to read and approved everything that went into his newspaper. He wouldn't have thought of delegating this duty to someone else. Wilson started out in the newspaper business fresh out of high school. He started in the mail room of his hometown paper. Soon he found himself running errands for the reporters in the city room. Within a year he was writing some of the boring little articles which no one else wanted to bother with. He wrote obituaries, and articles about the firemen getting some little lady's cat out of a tree, and other things the full-fledged reporters thought were beneath them. When he finally got his own byline, he knew he would be doing this for the rest of his life. He knew he had reached the big time when he had been offered a job at the San Francisco Chronicle. He had been there ever since, working his way from a job as a junior reporter, until he had reached the lofty position of editor-in-chief. The two things he stressed most to reporters who worked for him, were accuracy and honesty. The accuracy part was easy for most reporters to understand. It's simply meant getting your facts right. If a reporter screwed up the facts in an article, Dave would bring him and explained to him how important was to be absolutely accurate in what was reported. If it happened to second time, the reporter no longer worked for Dave. What Dave meant by honesty was a little harder for most reporters to understand. Dave didn't believe a newspaper or any news media for that matter should be used as a forum for supporting one person's opinion. He didn't believe a story should have a "slant". Dave wanted his writers to report the news accurately, and in such a manner that the reader could form their own opinions, without being influenced by the opinions of the reporter or the newspaper management. Dave's opinions had gotten him into trouble with management on more than one occasion. He had been close to being fired several times during his stay at the Chronicle, but had refused to back down from his principles. Dave was Bonnie's hero in the newspaper business. She had known Dave all her life, and he was the primary reason she had decided to become a reporter in the first place. When she had told Dave of her decision to go into journalism when she finished college, he had assured her a job would be waiting for her when she was ready for it. Bonnie knew she could learn a lot from Dave, so she took him up on his offer. Bonnie had always been close to her "Uncle" Dave, but now, when she came into his office, she was more than a little concerned about his reaction to what she had to tell him. She wanted to be as honest with him as possible, but she didn't want to betray any of the secrets that could adversely affect Al or his family. "Good Morning boss," she said, to get his attention. "Anything interesting?" "Same old crap," he told her, looking up from the stack of papers in his hand. "What the hell you doing here, young lady? You're supposed to be on vacation." "Well, boss, I'm not very good at this vacation thing. Something's come up that I need to talk to you about. It's very important, but it's not something we can write about immediately." "If we can't write about it, are you sure you should be talking to me about it?" Bonnie closed the door to the office, than took a seat across from Dave. "Uncle Dave, I trust you more than I trust just about anyone else, including mom. I've always been able to talk with you. This is a situation where I need advice from both my uncle and my boss. I need to ask you to keep everything I tell you secret until I tell you it is OK to go ahead and print it." "OK, I guess I understand. You want me to be uncle first, and editor second. Bonnie, I hope you know I will always respect your confidence. You've always been more of a daughter to me then any of my own kids have been." Bonnie reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. She told him everything that had been happening, holding nothing back, except the names of the other people involved. When she finished, Dave let out a big sign. "I know I don't have to ask you this, young lady, but are you sure about all of this?" "Absolutely sure, Uncle Dave. I can't prove it all in a court of law, but in my own heart I'm sure of everything I've told you." Dave leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. Several seconds went by before he said anything else. "From what you've told me, if these guys activate the computer virus, we wouldn't even be able to report it. Radio and TV would be just as helpless as we would." "That's the scariest part about it, Uncle Dave. We think we've figured out a way to prevent them from activating the virus. Were going to have to wait until our former FBI agent gets back with us before we'll know for sure. The congressmen, on the take, is another story. Is it something we should go ahead with now?" Dave smiled and shook his head. "As much as I would like to write that story myself, it wouldn't be a good idea. Even if you prevent the virus from taking effect, they still control a large portion of our economy. If they simply shut down all of the companies they own or control for a few days, they could cripple us for months." "I know that Linda seemed concerned about the number of companies these people control, but I never really thought about what would happen if they simply closed the companies." "Didn't you say that one of the people who's involved in this is an economics professor? If so, you should give him a list of the companies they control, and ask him what would happen if they all shut down for a week." Bonnie thought for a minute, then nodded. "I think I'll do just that. I'm not even sure if Al has thought about that aspect of the problem. I knew there was a reason I wanted to talk with you." "By the way, young lady, who's this Al you keep talking about? I known you for long time, and I've never seen your face light up so much from just speaking someone's name. I hope he someone who deserves you." Bonnie blushed, and smiled at her of uncle. "I think he is, Dave. I just hope I deserve him." "Never doubt yourself, Bonnie. You are a beautiful, intelligent young lady. I take it from what you're saying that you have fallen in love with this guy. Just let him know, if he hurts you, I'll hurt him." Bonnie giggled. "Uncle Dave, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. Have you ever seen me swooning over some man, or telling you I was in love?" "No, Bonnie, you never have. This guy must be something special if you have fallen for him. I wish you the best, and I want your promise to introduce me to him as soon as this is over." It talked for a few more minutes, then Bonnie excused herself and headed back to Al's place Al become so engrossed in what he was doing, the ringing of his phone caused him to nearly jump out of his chair. "Al Green speaking," he answered. A cultured voice came over the phone. "Mr. Green, this is Dr. Jenkins at the Stanford Medical Center emergency room. We have a Ms. Bonnie Gillespie here. She's been in an automobile accident, and she's been asking for you." "Oh my God. Is she okay?" "She will be, Mr. Green. She has a broken arm, and quite a bit of bruising, but there doesn't seem to be anything serious. She is asking for you though. If you could come by and see her, I'm sure it would improve her mental state considerably." "I'll leave immediately, Dr. Jenkins. Thank you so much for calling." "It's my pleasure, Mr. Green. I'll probably see you when you arrive. Goodbye Mr. Green." Al dressed quickly and within minutes was in his rental car, heading out. He hadn't cleared the parking lot of his warehouse where he found himself surrounded by five other cars. "Not again," he thought, pounding the steering wheel of the rental car. Al knew immediately he had screwed up. In fact he had screwed up in several ways. He realized now the phone call about Bonnie must have been bogus. In his fear and frustration he had forgotten to bring along Lt. Slavens' little present. On second thought, maybe that wasn't a screw up after all. If he had the gun with him, he would probably try to use it, and then he would be killed for sure. Maybe this way he at least had a chance. The men who surrounded his car were not wearing ski masks. He was immediately relieved, thinking that if they were not wearing masks, they might not be planning to do anything bad to him. Then it hit him that they might not care if he saw them because they never planned to let him live to tell about it. He could tell they were all of Oriental descent. One man approached the car and tapped on his window. Al lowered his window slightly. The man smiled at him and said, "Mr. Green, we would like for you to come with us. Our employer would like to speak with you." "Who is your employer," Al asked him? "We work for Mitsutronics Corp.," the man answered. "Now, please come with us." "OK, I've been wanting to meet someone from Mitsutronics. Lead on and I'll follow you." The man smiled and shook his head. "You don't understand Mr. Green, you will be riding with us. Please don't make this unpleasant for any of us." Al could see no way out. He quietly got out of his car, and climbed in to the back seat to of a car whose door was being held open for him. There was another man seated on the far side in the back and as soon as he was seated the man holding the door nudged him over and climbed in on his other side. The car accelerated immediately and the other cars which had surrounded him quickly disappeared. They made no effort to hide were they were going. Soon, they were out of the city, traveling along a two lane road which wound between small hills, mostly covered with trees. It was a quiet pastoral setting, and Al couldn't imagine anything bad happening to him in such beautiful surroundings. Before long they stopped before a heavily barred gate. The man on his left got out and motioned for Al to follow. One of the other men exited the vehicle as well, and took a position behind Al, as they started up the tree-lined path. Soon, they could see a pagoda like structure which was completely hidden from the road. As they approached the building, it seemed to Al that his escorts became almost reverent. One of the men remained outside, but the other escorted Al into what was obviously and exercise room. A middle-aged Japanese man was moving rapidly around the room. He had a short stick in his hand and was swinging it in what appeared to be a ritualistic manner. ------- When Bonnie arrived at the warehouse, she knew immediately something was wrong. Al's rental car was in the parking lot, the driver's door slightly open. She went into the apartment, and frantically with around for a note. She then started the computer she had been using, and checked to see if there had been any messages left on the computer. She found nothing. Her first thought was to call Lt. Slavens. When she dialed his number, a young woman answered. She asked for the lieutenant, and was told he was working the crime scene, and it couldn't be reached. She used the computer's and modem to call Hak. "Hak, this is Bonnie. Have you heard anything from Al lately?" "No, Bonnie. I haven't talked with him since yesterday. Is something wrong?" "I'm afraid there might be. I went in to work for a while, and when I got back I found his car in the parking lot, with the driver's door opened. There was no note in the car, and no notes or messages in the house. I thought he might have told you where he was going." "Did you check to see if anyone had called in while you were gone?" "No, Hak, I didn't. Hang on and I'll check the caller ID." "Actually, all you have to do is check out his security console. He told me he was recording all calls since this thing started." Bonnie went to the security console, and that after a minute of fumbling around, she selected the option to playback the last message. When she had finished listening to it, she told Hak what it had said. "My God, Hak. That means they've grabbed him. Do you have any idea where they might have taken him?" "Well, let's look at this logically. The last time they took him it was to an abandoned house. I'm sure they planned to get what they wanted from him quickly, been dump the body when they'd finished. That failed because he refused to cooperate." "So, do you think they would do it differently this time?" "Yes, these people aren't dumb. I'm sure they would want to take him somewhere that they could try something more subtle if the strong arm tactics fail. I know they're aware someone has been hacking into their computer systems. They probably suspect it was Al, so they'll want to know what he learned, if anything." "OK, so where do you think they would take him?" "If the underlings fail, a boss usually wants to try himself. I'll wager they'll take him to meet this Hirano character." "I'm sure they wouldn't take him into Mitsutronics. It would be much too public. Do you think they would take him to Hirano's home?" "I don't think so. Again, I think it would be too public. Hirano has a daughter at home, and I'm sure there are servants in the house as well. I think they would probably take him to the other property Hirano owns." "Do you have the address for the other property?" Hak gave her the address of the Dojo, and directions of how to find it. In a matter of minutes, Bonnie was in Al's rental car, heading out of the city. Every minute that passed seemed like an eternity, until she finally found herself at the gate of the Hirano property. ------- The Japanese man ignored Al and his escort for several minutes. Al knew the man could see them. He had no doubt the man knew exactly what was going on around him at all times. Finally the man stopped his movement, bowed to the four sides of the room, and then approached Al. He waved his hand, dismissively, at Al's companion and said, "You may go now, Muso, thank you very much for bringing Mr. Green to me. Please see to the other matter I asked you to take care of." He waited until Al's escort had left the building, then returned to Al. "Mr. Green, I am Kiso Hirano. I am the president of Mitsutronics. I asked you here today, because you have something I need very badly. I'm willing to pay you for it, and pay you very well indeed. I think you know what I'm talking about, Mr. Green, so please do not plead ignorance." "Yes, Mr. Hirano, I know exactly what you're talking about. It's the same thing you or some of your henchmen killed my brother to get. If you think I'm going to sell this to you, you are sadly mistaken. I don't deal with murderers, especially with someone who killed my own brother." Hirano smiled a cold, wry smile. "I assure you, Mr. Green, I had nothing to do with killing your brother. It distressed me greatly when I learned that someone in their zeal to help Mitsutronics, committed such a terrible act. I know that I cannot bring your brother back, but I would be happy to compensate his lovely wife and children for their loss." "What an oily bastard," Al thought. "It's too bad I don't have a tape recorder. If this bastard didn't kill Sam himself, he has basically admitted he knows who did." "Mr. Hirano, we don't want your money. All we want is to be left alone." "I'm afraid we can't leave you alone, Mr. Green. As I said, you have something we need. It is worth several million dollars to us. If you will simply turn over the information we want, we will be out of your lives forever. One of the oldest Japanese traditions is that you never harm or kill someone unnecessarily. I follow those traditions closely." "If it were up to me, Mr. Hirano, I would give you what you are asking for. It's not up to me though. Before he died, Sam wrote me a letter, asking me not to give the information you want to anyone. This was his last request and there is no way in the world that I would dishonor his request. I assure you, there is only one other person who knows where this information is hidden. That person is not a member of the family, or even a friend of the family. He doesn't know what the information is or what it is worth. I have paid him a considerable amount of money to protect an envelope, and only turn it over to the police if something happens to me." "Well then, Mr. Green, I'll just have to make sure you give me the information I want before you die. That isn't a threat, Mr. Green. This can be a very easy transaction, or a very difficult one. You only have two choices. You can give me the processes now and I will pay you and your family $10 million, or you can refuse to cooperate and I will do whatever it takes to force you to give me the processes anyway, in which case you get nothing." "I've already told you, Mr. Hirano, I cannot and will not turn the processes over to you." "In that case, Mr. Green, I think we will start out with a little martial arts play." Hirano turned his back and walked across the room. He took a long thin sword from a holder mounted on the wall. He brought the sword back, and handed it hilt first to Al. Hirano picked up his jo, and the backed slowly away from Al. He began waving the Jo slowly back and forth, much like a snake charmer waves his flute back and forth to hypnotize the snake. Some of the characters in the games Al created were master swordsmen, but Al had never held a sword in his hand in his entire life. The knowledge was there, but the skills were not. "Thank God he only has a stick," Al thought. Al swung the sword back and forth several times, getting the feel of it. It was nicely balanced, and felt like an extension of his arm. He didn't kid himself that he could stand-up to someone who was obviously a master of the martial arts. He did, however, hope to get in at least one good cut, before his opponent disarmed him. Before he even knew what was happening, Al felt a sharp pain over his left eye. Hirano was backing up, smiling. Al raised his hand to his forehead, and winced when his fingers came back bloodied. Blood was running into his left eye when he saw Hirano moving again. Now he had a sharp pain over his right eye as well. When he felt the second pain, he lashed out with the sword, hoping to make some contact with his tormentor. Unfortunately he was a second too late. He could hear Hirano's laughter as the blade cut the empty air. "It's going to be a long day," Al thought, trying to keep his sense of humor. Hirano was now a blur of motion. He seemed to be everywhere at once. The blood, now dripping into both of his eyes, further impeded Al's ability to keep up with his opponent's movements. Over the next several minutes, Al was bleeding from a dozen cuts, and was bruised in many other places. There were no bones broken, as yet, but Al knew it was only a matter of time before something was severely damaged. Hirano was enjoying himself immensely. He had a feral grin on his face, that got wider with each injury he inflicted on the American. He wanted to make this last as long as possible. Every minute or two, he would again ask Al for the processes. Al never bothered to answer. After about 10 minutes of this torture, Hirano backed off. He said nothing as he watched Al trying to wipe the blood from his eyes. Entirely against his wishes, he began to gain a grudging respect for this American. Al was bloody but unbowed. "No wonder Muso ended up killing his brother if he was anything like this one," Hirano thought. Hirano started in again. He hit Al on his sword hand with what seemed like a light tap. Al dropped the sword, clutching a broken thumb. Hirano was an expert, hitting Al where he knew it would hurt the worst. Finally, Al collapsed to the mat from loss of blood and fatigue. Hirano was trying to figure out what to do next, when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned to face the intruder, and immediately recognized Bonnie Gillespie from the pictures he had seen of her. "Ah, if it isn't the lovely Ms. Gillespie," he said. "I'm so glad you came. Mr. Green is being very uncooperative. He tells me you know nothing of where the processes are hidden, but I'm not sure I believe him. Even if he's telling the truth, I'm sure he will be a lot more cooperative if it is you who is receiving the beating." "I wouldn't be too sure about who's going to be beaten," Bonnie told him as she raised the gun Lt. Slavens had given to Al and centered the little red dot on Hirano's chest. "You see, I came prepared." Hirano smiled at her, and took a small step forward, "But you are just a woman, Ms. Gillespie, and American woman at that. Women don't have the killer instinct that men have, Ms. Gillespie. Women are good for satisfying the needs of men, and little else. I can be across this room and disarm you, before you could even think about pulling the trigger. I have nothing to be concerned about from you." Hirano took another small step forward. "Stay where you are," Bonnie told him. "One more step, and I will be happy to show you how mistaken you are." ------- Chapter 18 Hirano just smiled, and took another step forward. Bonnie gently squeezed the trigger of the 9 mm. Hirano had a pleasingly surprised look on his face as he crumpled to the mat. Bonnie dropped the gun, and ran to where Al was laying on the mat. She pressed a finger to the artery in his neck, feeling for a pulse. The pulse was strong, and regular. Bonnie went over and checked Hirano. He was dead. Definitely dead. She went back to Al and gently turned him over until he was on his back. He seemed to be breathing easily, so she finally started to relax. It was a then that the shakes hit her. The full realization of what she had done set in, and she lost control of her body for several minutes. Finally her practical side started to take over again. She knew she was in a bind. She had just killed someone, and there were no witnesses to corroborate her story. Bonnie unclipped her cell-phone from her belt and dialed Lt.Slavens' number. He answered on the first ring. "Art, I'm in serious trouble. Can you talk?" "Sure, Bonnie, what's wrong?" "Art, I just killed a Japanese man who was beating Al. I thought Al was dead, then the guy turned and started walking toward me. I used the gun you had given Al." "Oh my God!" Lt. Slavens exclaimed. "Where are you now?" Bonnie gave him the address and directions to Hirano's Dojo. "OK, stay put. Don't talk to anyone. Don't go anywhere. Don't touch anything you haven't touched already. I'll be there within 20 minutes." Bonnie hung up her phone, and went back to Al. He was starting to move and groan. Bonnie dampened the handkerchief with her saliva, and washed the blood from his eyes. When he saw who was tending to him, he became agitated. "Bonnie, get out of here quickly. Hirano is around here somewhere and he may be back at any minute." "You don't have to worry about him," she told him ruefully. "He won't bother us anymore." She held his hand until he fell back into unconsciousness. Then, she picked up the gun and moved to where she could watch the path leading to the Dojo, without being seen herself. She was still standing there when she saw Lt. Slavens coming up the path. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms, sobbing hysterically. Lt. Slavens held her for a brief period, then pushed her back and looked her up and down. "Are you hurt," he asked? "No, I'm not hurt, but Al is a mess. He looks as bad or worse then he looked the last time they beat him." "OK, let's go in and take a look." He took Bonnie's hand and led her back into the building. When they got inside, he went immediately to Hirano and felt for pulse. When he got up again he had a very serious expression. "Bonnie, I don't know what we're going to do with you. The man doesn't have a weapon, and you're not hurt in any way. A prosecuting attorney will try to convince the jury that you were in no danger from the president of a major corporation. Let me think for a minute. Maybe I can come up with something," he said, shaking his head. Barney sat beside Al and held his hand while she waited for Lt. Slavens to say something. Slavens, in the meantime, was walking around the room, looking for any evidence he might find. "Bonnie, I know you did what you had to do. I gave Al the gun, because I knew something like this might happen. Never in my life have I altered the crime scene. If I don't do something, though, two of the people I care about the most are going to be put through a living hell." Bonnie didn't say anything, she got to her feet, and went to Lt. Slavens and took his hand. She held on to it tightly while she waited for him to say something else. Slavens finally made his decision. "OK, Bonnie, help me get Al down to my car. We'll put him in the back seat, and get him to the hospital as soon as I finish here." When they had Al comfortably in the back of the patrol car, Slavens told Bonnie to drive her car to the convenience store that was about two miles down the road, and to wait for him there. Slavens watched until Bonnie had driven off, then returned up the path to the Dojo. Once inside he was all business. The first thing he did was find the spent cartridge from when Bonnie had fired. He removed a soft handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped the spent cartridge. He then dropped it randomly on the mat. He then removed the clip from the gun, and the cartridge from the chamber. He carefully wiped all of the cartridges clean, and inserted them one by one into the clip. He wiped the clip, and inserted it into the gun. He jacked one round into the chamber, then wiped the outside of the gun. He took the gun to where Hirano lay, and fitted it into the man's dead fingers. He used Hirano's index finger to fire one round into the mat close to the body. He left the gun clasped in the dead man's hand. He worked several small strips of the matting loose, set them afire with his cigarette lighter, then placed them by the hole the bullet had made in the mat. Slavens walked to the door, and turned to watch as the dry mats and paper screens burst into it a roaring fire. Soon, the entire room was engulfed in flames. Slavens turned and walked quickly to his car. He didn't look back as he sped off to find Bonnie. Al Green became aware of himself. His mind was fuzzy, but this time he realized more quickly where he was. He tried to will open his eyes, but again found they were swollen shut. He remembered Bonnie leaning over him at Hirano's Dojo. He had barely been able to see her. "I must have passed out again," he thought. He tried moving his arms and legs, and found the moved freely with no restraints. With his right hand, he found the call button for the nurse. The he tried to press it, however, his right thumb immediately let him know it was broken. He managed to get it pressed anyway, and soon a soft feminine voice asked what he needed. "Can you tell me where I am, ma'am?" "You're in the hospital, Mr. Green. The doctor told me to tell you not to worry. Other than the broken thumb, and some minor cuts, bruises, and swelling, you're going to be fine." "Thank-you nurse..." "Adams." "Thank-you, nurse Adams. Has there been anyone here to see me?" "As a matter fact, there is a Mrs. Green waiting to see you." "Please send her in, nurse Adams, I could really use some company right now." The nurse bustled out of the room. Soon, Al felt a soft hand take his. "How did you find out I was here so quickly, Linda?" "I'm afraid it's not Linda," Bonnie said with a giggle. "I hope you're not going to have me thrown out again." "Not a chance," Al told her, gently squeezing her hand. "What's this Mrs. Green stuff? Are you trying to trap me?" "Not really, sweetheart. I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind though," she said with another giggle. "Well, that thought keeps crossing my mind too." They were quiet for a few minutes, holding onto each other, and enjoying the moment. Finally Al asked, "So, could you fill me on what happened?" In a low voice, Bonnie told him the entire story, leaving nothing out. After she had finished, they were again quiet. There were still, silently, holding hands when Lt. Slavens came into the room. When Al tried to thank him for what he had done, Slavens told him to shut up. "As far as I'm concerned, Al, none of this ever happened. I don't want to be reminded of it for any reason. That doesn't mean I regret anything I did, and it doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again." "OK, I can respect that. I hope you don't think any less of Bonnie or me because of this. I value your friendship and I don't want to lose it." "No way you're going to lose my friendship, buddy. We all did what we had to do, but now it's best to forget all about it." They stood around in companionable silence for a couple of minutes. Slavens was just getting ready to leave, when Glen Wright came into the room. After greetings and handshakes were exchanged, Mr. Wright got right to the point. "I've been in contact with several very powerful people all over the last couple of days. I have been asked to extend their deepest thanks for what you have come up with." Al smiled ruefully, "Thanks are nice, but I'd rather know something was being done about this." Mr. Wright nodded, "I can understand that, Al. I can assure you something is being done. Most of it, I'm not privy to, but I can tell you what is being done about the computers being subjected to the virus. We have set up a computer and the local telephone company to monitor the phone lines which would send out the activation phrase. If one or all of them dial out and send the activation phrase, the computer will automatically shut down phone service to all of them. The computer will also monitor the line which sends back responses to the computers calling it. If that computer fails to respond or fails to answer, the phone company will take over for it, sending out the proper response." Al couldn't help but smile. He'd been thinking of something along those lines himself. "OK, that takes care of the most immediate threat. Any idea what they're going to be doing about the inter-linked companies?" "Not really," Mr. Wright answered. "I know they are looking into it. It's going to take a lot longer to do some things. I understand that the man who seemed to be running the whole thing committed suicide, then accidentally burned the building he was in. It seems that Mr. Hirano was on the board, and in most cases chairman of the board of all of the inter-linked companies. His death will probably throw them into chaos for quite some time. This is a very fortunate thing for us. It couldn't have happened at a better time." Al squeezed Bonnie's hand. "Yes, I agree, it is very fortunate he died when he did." Mr. Wright again extended his hand to the three friends. "I should be leaving now. I don't want to tire you out, Al. I'll let you know if I find out anything else that's going on." After Mr. Wright had left the room, Al turn to Bonnie and said, "Very fortunate timing, indeed." The couple of minutes later, a very stern looking nurse stuck her head in the door to see what all the laughing was about. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2003-11-12 Last Modified: 2005-04-08 / 08:26:38 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------