Fatal Error, стр. 8

Jupiter took in the situation quickly and said smoothly, “Mr. Ek. Just the man we wanted to talk to.”

In a crisis, Jupe often drew on his childhood acting experience. Now he slipped into the role of a polished diplomat, introducing the guys and describing the cries for help they’d heard.

“We rushed in to the rescue,” Jupe said, laying it on thick. “We thought we were heroes, but it seems instead we were trespassers!”

The Three Investigators and the costumed actors laughed.

Silas Ek didn’t. “What were you doing outside?” he growled.

“As a matter of fact, we were looking for one of your programmers,” Jupe said. “Norton Rome.”

“Nort!” the first dirt lump said. “Now that’s one wacky guy. I mean strange. He’s the one who… ”

“Harold!” Silas Ek warned.

“Oops! Sorry, Silas.” The dirt clod backed away.

Cole Paciano, who had been impatiently watching the proceedings, stuck the whistle in his mouth and blew. “Back to work!” he ordered.

As the actors scurried to the center of the room and resumed their roles, Silas Ek studied the Investigators once more. Ek’s face seemed even more severe, the lines deeper. Jupe sensed he’d hit a nerve with Norton Rome’s name, and it was making Ek change his tactics. The security chief became friendlier.

“Come with me,” he invited. “We’ll talk in my office.”

“Great!” Pete said, pleased. “Can we see some of Oracle Light and Magic? You guys are fantastic. Wait till I tell Kelly — that’s my girlfriend!” And he’d blow his dad’s mind too. Mr. Crenshaw was in special effects himself, though nothing as high-octane as Oracle.

“That’s just what we don’t want,” Ek said as he led the Investigators through the rehearsal hall’s door and down a corridor. Glass-windowed offices lined one side, while fire extinguishers and photos of famous Oracle creations dotted the other. “We moved here to get away from notoriety.”

“That’s why you operate under a false name, the Reasoner Corporation?” Jupe asked.

Ek nodded. “In L.A. we had to have guards everywhere to keep people from sneaking in and stealing souvenirs.’ We don’t want the public to know where we are now.”

“We heard about the Grim Speaker stuff,” Bob told him.

“That was the final straw,” Ek agreed.

On Jupiter’s left, rows of computers crammed an enormous glassed-in room. The sign on the door said computer graphics department. All but three of the computers were dark, but at those three, programmers hunched over their keyboards, working feverishly. Jupe stopped abruptly to stare at the screens. They were filled with nonsense numbers and letters — garbage!

Bob, who had been following Jupe, bumped smack into him. Stout Jupe hardly budged, so intent was he on what he saw.

“Come on, Jupe,” Bob complained. “Get the lead out.”

“Keep moving,” Ek insisted.

Jupe asked Ek, “Oracle does a lot of computer graphics?”

“One of our specialties,” Ek said, increasing his pace so that the guys had to trot to keep up, “The animated computer graphics on Cosmic Trek set the industry standard. Everyone thinks computer animation started with the first Star Wars. But all computers did then, basically, was figure angles and speeds for the cameras to film miniature models of spaceships, floating cars, and so forth.”

“I’ve seen that movie eighteen times,” Pete said. “At least. I thought all the spaceship battles were animated on computers!”

“That’s what everyone thinks. But no drawings were animated. They just shot models.”

Ek climbed a flight of stairs up to a wide landing. There a full-length painting of a smiling woman in a fashion spacesuit peered down on them.

“Hey, isn’t that Phyllis Hyem?” asked Jupe.

“The lady who founded Oracle!” Bob said.

“She’s famous,” added Pete.

“Yes, that’s Ms. Hyem.” Ek opened the first door on the left. They entered a long office with a picture window on one side that looked out over the Oracle complex. Ek had a good view of the small buildings and sheds that dotted the grounds. A dozen security monitors covered the far wall of the office. They showed views of Oracle’s exterior, studios, and production rooms.

“You guys really stay on top of things in security,” Bob said, impressed with the monitors.

“Sit down,” Ek said pleasantly, and gestured at three canvas chairs in front of his desk. He sat down behind his desk, facing the guys and the video monitors.

“You asked about Nort Rome,” the security chief said. “Mind telling me why?”

“Sure,” Jupe answered. “He came to talk to my computer club and left behind something I want to return. But he wasn’t home yesterday or today.”

“He’s on an extended vacation,” Ek said promptly. “Why don’t you leave whatever it is with me? I’ll see that he gets it.”

“You don’t want what he left behind!” Pete warned the security chief.

“Not unless you want a computer virus!” Bob added.

Jupiter nodded. “But it looks to me as if Oracle’s already infected with a computer virus.”

“What?” Bob and Pete said. Silas Ek frowned angrily and picked up a paper-weight in the shape of a Cosmic Trek laser gun. “Aren’t you going off the deep end, young man?”

Jupe went on logically. “Your whole computer graphics department is closed down, even though you’ve got probably the busiest one in the nation. The only three computers that you’ve got on aren’t working — their screens are filled with the same junk that’s on our PC at home.”

Silas Ek stood up. “Our discussion is at an end. Let me warn you that Oracle can file trespassing charges against you anytime we wish. If we hear you’ve told anyone about our location or about any alleged ‘computer virus,’ we will be forced to do exactly that… ”

Just then Ek’s eyes widened behind his wire-rimmed spectacles. He stared unspeaking over the heads of the guys at the bank of security monitors.

The Investigators turned around. Sparks were shooting out from the monitors. Loud crackling and snapping noises followed.

Pete saw smoke billow toward them.

“Fire!”

8

A Space(ship) Odyssey

Pete ran for the door, “I saw fire extinguishers downstairs!” Silas Ek grabbed his telephone and punched buttons. “Maintenance? Ek here. I’ve got an electrical fire! Cut off the power and get up here with fire extinguishers!” As the lights went out, Ek called the Rocky Beach Fire Department.

Suddenly a few fingers of flames licked out from the video monitors.

“Uh — oh!” Bob said, sweating. “Every monitor’s hit!” Jupe cried. “Why would they all catch fire at the same time?”

“Who cares?” Bob said. “We’ve got to put out the fire before we turn into fried chicken!”

Pete slammed back in and tossed extinguishers to Bob and Jupe.

Jupe checked that they were dry-chemical fire extinguishers — the kind to use on burning paper, wood, textiles, liquids, gases, vehicles, and, most especially, electricity.

The three guys pulled the extinguishers’ safety pins, pressed down the top levers, and aimed the high-velocity streams of powder.

Just then the Oracle maintenance crew burst in with their own extinguishers. They lined up with the guys and smothered the blaze with a thick blanket of dry chemicals. At last the fire was dead.

“Those monitors look like they’ve been in a blizzard!” Pete laughed with relief. The white powder mounded over the monitors like snowdrifts.

“Thanks, fellows,” the crew chief told the Investigators. “You caught the fire before it spread into the building’s support timbers.”

As the crew chief moved his men out to fetch their cleanup equipment, Silas Ek phoned the fire department and told them to call back their engines.

When Ek hung up, Jupe suggested, “Now why don’t you phone downstairs for the head of your virus control team?”