Terminal Compromise Part 106

So you killed him?

ONE OF MY PEOPLE GOT A LITTLE OVER ZEALOUS. IT IS REGRETTABLE, BUT NECESSARY.

It is not necessary to kill anyone. Nowhere in the plan does it call for murder! That was part of our deal.

THE WINDS BLOW. CONDITIONS CHANGE.

The wind blows up your a.s.s!

THAT DOES NOT CHANGE THE FACT THAT HE WAS GOING TO TELL WHAT HE KNEW.

What the h.e.l.l does he know?

DGRAPH. THAT'S THE PROGRAM WE INFECTED.

DGraph? That's impossible. That's the most popular program in the world. How did you infect it?

I BOUGHT IT.

You own dGraph? I thought that Data Tech owned them.

OSO OWNS DATA TECH. YOU DID NOT LISTEN TO YOUR OWN ADVICE. I BOUGHT IT AFTER YOU VISITED ME FOR THE SECOND TIME. IT SEEMED PRUDENT. WE ALSO BOUGHT A HALF DOZEN OTHER SMALL, PROMISING SOFTWARE COMPANIES, JUST AS YOU SUGGESTED. VERY GOOD PLAN.

And Troubleaux knows?

OF COURSE. HE HAD INCENTIVE.

So you try to kill him?

HE LOST HIS INCENTIVE. IT WAS NECESSARY. HE WAS GOING TO TELL AND, AS YOU SAID, SECRECY IS PARAMOUNT. YOUR WORDS.

Yes, secrecy, but not murder. I can't be part of that.

BUT YOU ARE MR. FOSTER. I HOPE THAT THIS IS AN ISOLATED INCIDENT THAT WILL NOT BE REPEATED.

It had d.a.m.n well better be.

DO NOT FORGET MR. FOSTER THAT YOU HAVE A SIZABLE PAYMENT COMING.

I WOULD HATE TO SEE YOU LOSE THAT WHEN THINGS ARE SO CLOSE.

>>>>>

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," Miles said out loud. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"What's going on? Miles?" Perky followed him back to the couch in front of the TV and sat close with her arm around him. She was still crying softly.

"It's gonna start. That's amazing." He blankly stared forward.

"What's gonna start? Miles, did you kill someone?"

"Oh, no!" He turned to her in sincerity. "That b.a.s.t.a.r.d h.o.m.osoto did. Jesus, I can't believe it."

"What are you involved in? I thought you were a consultant."

"I was. Tomorrow I will be a very rich retired consultant." He pulled her hands into his and spoke warmly. "Listen, it's better that your don't know what's going on, much better. But I promise you, I promise you, that h.o.m.osoto is behind it, not me. I couldn't ever kill anyone. You need to believe that."

"Miles, I do, but you seem to know more than . . ."

"I do, and I can't say anything. Trust me," he said as he brought her close to him. "This will all work out for the best.

I promise you. Look at me," he said and pulled up her chin so she gazed directly into his eyes. "I have a lot invested in you, and this project. More than you could ever know, and now that it is nearly over, I can put more time into you. After all, you bear some of the responsibility." Miles' loving att.i.tude was a contradiction from his usual self centered pre-occupation.

"Me?" She asked.

"Who got me involved with h.o.m.osoto in the first place?" he said glaring at her.

"I guess I did, but . . ."

"I know, I'm kidding," he said squeezing her closer. "I'm not blaming you for anything. I didn't know he could resort to murder, and if I did, I never would have gotten involved in the first place."

"Miles, I love you." That was the first time in their years of on-again off-again contact that she told him how she felt. Now she had to decide if she would tell him that he was just another a.s.signment, and that in all likelihood she had just lost her job, too. "I really do love you."

"The last G.o.dd.a.m.ned time this happened was in the 1950's when Puerto Rican revolutionaries started a shoot-em-up in the old gallery," the President shouted.

Phil Musgrave and Quinton Chambers listened to the angry Presi- dent. His tirade began minutes after he summoned them both to his office. They were as frustrated and upset as he was, but it was their job to listen until the President had blown off enough steam.

"I am well aware a democracy, a true democracy is subject to extremist activists, but," the President sighed, "this is getting entirely out of hand. What is it about this computer stuff that stirs up so much emotion?" He waited for an answer.

"I'm not sure that computers are to blame, sir," said Phil.

"First of all, the a.s.sailant used a ceramic pistol. No way for our security to detect it without a physical search and that wouldn't go over well with anyone." The brilliant Musgrave was making a case for calm rationality in the light of the live a.s.sa.s.sination attempt. "Second, at this point there is no con- nection between Troubleaux and his attacker. We're not even 100% sure that Troubleaux was the target."

"That's a crock Phil," a.s.serted the President. "It doesn't take a genius to figure out that there is an obvious connection be- tween this computer c.r.a.p and the Rickfield incident. I want to know what it is, and I want to know fast."

"Sir," Chambers said quietly. "We have the FBI and the CIA investigating, but until the perpetrator regains consciousness, which may be doubtful because his spine was snapped in the fall, we won't know too much."

The President frowned. "Does it seem odd to you that Mason, the Times reporter was there with Troubleaux at the exact time he got shot?"

"No sir, just a coincidence. It seems that computer crime has been his hot b.u.t.ton for a while," Musgrave said. "I don't think he's involved at all."

"I'm not suggesting that," the President interrupted. "But he does seem to be where the action is. I think it would be prudent if we knew a bit more of his activities. Do I need to say more?"

"No sir. Consider it done."

Chapter 22