Page 86 - Labelle Gramercy, Detective

Cat’s Paw

Mallard grunted after I’d finished. “Didn’t know about the sister.
Hmmph. Don’t let her get her hooks into you, my boy. That book is
ours. You got that?”
“Right.”
“Then go ahead, but keep your wits about you.”
“Gladly, sir. And thank you for entrusting me with this important
task.” Cripes, that was laying it on thick, but he wasn’t too crusty to
take it—at least not that afternoon. I genuflected my way out of his
office and strode with great purpose to my desk, ignoring the envious
glances of lesser co-workers. There, stuck between a screwdriver and
an old graphics card, was a phone message. It was from someone I’d
never heard of, Albert B. Goode, and gave a number to call in the
evening. Probably a vendor of stolen software, I guessed, and stuffed
the note into my shirt pocket.
The rest of the afternoon I spent trying to put my PC back
together again. Others labored impatiently, victims of limited chip
speed, channel capacity and hard-disk storage caching; as soon as my
machine was ready, I’d blow them all away. No tortoises were going
to beat this hare once he got his running shoes laced up. But I was
working with IBM-clone components and ran into some
compatibility problems: the damned thing wouldn’t bootstrap, no
matter what I tried. Disgusted, I put down my tools shortly after six
o’clock and trudged toward the elevator. It was enough for one day
for this fair-haired boy.

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Outside it was getting a bit chilly, so I put on my jacket. Daylight
Savings Time had kicked in, but summer was saving up its own time
for later. I was walking toward my car, with thoughts turning toward
dinner, and what might not yet have spoiled in my refrigerator, when
I suddenly had that vague intuition of being followed. Now, I’m not
the paranoid type, and I’ve never been mugged, so that tingling
between the shoulder blades was not a sensation to which I was
accustomed. Without the day’s bizarre activities, however, I might
have tried to shrug it off. As it was, I whirled around and confronted
the person dogging my footsteps about ten yards behind.

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