Page 33 - Three Adventures

Deflator Mouse

point is that we can do the job cleaner, faster, and with significantly
less damage than outsiders.”
“Hmm.” Captain Jack glanced about his office, secure in the
knowledge that here, at least, conversations were not tapped, taped,
miked, or optically bugged. Any snooping by the watchdogs of
Washington would inevitably lead to his own censure, regardless of
other outcomes. Am I getting soft? he wondered. Two more years
and he’d be totally vested in the Litmus Industries stock ownership
plan. He pushed the printout back toward Beveledge. “All right,
Doctor. You didn’t show me this, officially. If anyone else comes in
with it, I’ll treat it as a joke. You also didn’t tell me about the security
violation. That’s as far as I’ll put my job on the line; send me those
lists and I’ll get cracking on a nice quiet investigation of, say, missing
card-keys. What will you be doing?”
Beveledge tucked the fan-fold form under his arm. “I am going to
play psychologist, Captain Lampson. Not my background, of course,
but neither is it yours. Somewhere hidden in these messages is a clue
to the identity of their author. Some turn of phrase, some technical
jargon, some left-wing in-group idiom—something, damn it!—that
will give that son-of-a-bitch away! I’ll be in my office if you need
me.”
His final words bounced off the once-again yanked-open door as
the director exited. Lampson squinted at his scribbled notes, and
absently drew the cup of coffee to his lips. It was cold.

* * * * *

Fog obscured the ice plant searching for sustenance in the sandy
soil surrounding Ken Oshima’s Manhattan Beach apartment building
as he arrived home. After parking neatly in his assigned space he set
about raising the top of his convertible. Litmus Industries, where he
worked, was far enough inland to get its climate from the desert
rather than the sea. The next morning he would lower the top,
exposing his face and arms to the cruel California sun, and his lungs
and nasal passages to the fatal freeway fumes, as he headed east to
work again. His employer knew him as a software engineer, thirty-
two years old, a graduate of San Jose State and Stanford, single with
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