Page 31 - Three Adventures
P. 31

Deflator Mouse


          As the director continued to stalk about and fidget, Captain Jack
        wished  he  hadn’t  quit  smoking  four  months  earlier.  In  need  of
        screening his facial contortions, he resorted to stroking his mandibles
        as if in deep thought; then he opened a desk drawer and extracted a
        file  folder.  “Of  course,  Director,  we  shall  assume  you  are  not
        Deflator  Mouse.  Unless  your  psychological  profile  is  a  complete
        forgery,  self-destructive  behavior  is  totally  out  of  your  character.”
        Lampson ignored the other man’s immediate and sarcastic expression
        of gratitude, and opened the file. “Now, let’s get down to cases. We
        should be able to eliminate some suspects, if nothing else. We’ve got
        to identify two groups of people: one with access to a Xerox machine
        when we think it was used, and the other with access to your terminal
        when we know it was used. Then we see who is in both groups.”
          Beveledge’s circumambulation ceased. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. Let’s
        proceed logically. But it’s not that easy. The copiers in this building
        might not have been used for the cartoons and the fake safety poster:
        although  you  had  the  paper  analyzed,  and  it’s  probably  ours,  all
        Xerox machines produce the same sort of image with identical toner.
        Beyond that, you must realize that nearly everyone uses the copiers
        here,  sometimes  for  personal  business;  most  employers  look  the
        other  way,  and  we  would  face  mutiny  by  removing  that  privilege.
        Therefore, your first group of suspects is not very exclusive. As for
        the  second,  we  might  have  a  lead.  The  date  and  time  of  every
        transaction  is  stamped  into  the  back-up  record,  so  I  can  tell  you
        without fear of contradiction that this—this memo was entered into
        the computer last night at precisely eight fifty-three.”
          Lampson started writing on his blotter. “Okay. I can get the duty
        roster from the main gate and see who worked late.”
          “Even that won’t be definitive.” Beveledge sighed, the hissing of a
        mighty  dirigible  blowing  off  excess  helium.  “Many  of  our  people
        have  hook-ups  at  home  that  allow  them  remote  access  to  our
        computer through PCs and dumb terminals.”
          “You have a list?”
          “Only of the people with equipment issued by us. Anyone with a
        modem and the right series of codes can dial in from anywhere. At
        this point, I’d say about eighty per cent of my technical staff use that
        facility on a regular basis.”
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