The Barsoom Project

He typed his security code in, and made a few quick routing instructions. When he looked up, he saw that she was seriously concerned.

“Alex, you don’t usually ignore an innuendo.”

“Millie, I can’t trust anyone who was here ten years ago. You came in seven years ago, so that’s why we’re talking.”

“And here I thought it was my lucid personality.”

“I need that too.”

“So talk.” The smile was gone. Millicent knew him too well to expect pleasantries, or anything pleasant at all.

He took a deep breath. “All right. Ten years ago, Cowles Industries was in trouble.”

“Financial trouble. I know, I’ve got it in my files.”

“There was going to be a hostile takeover, but enough stockholders held on out of loyalty to make it difficult. And then somebody, no one’s sure who, but his initials are Kareem Fekesh, set up an accident that would help to scare off some of our supporters. Enough to tip the scales.”

“Kareem Fekesh… I’ll look him up. What kind of an accident?”

“Murder. A man named Calvin Izumi was killed during the playing of the Fimbulwinter Game. The woman who killed him is a Michelle Sturgeon. She popped back up in the park two days ago.”

Millicent sat down hard, her face tight. “Oh. That Michelle Sturgeon.” She searched his face for clues. “All right, Griff. What can I do?”

“Help me sort through this. This first part isn’t pleasant at all, and maybe only Harmony has had the nerve to look at it.”

“What’s that?”

“It was no outside job. The current theory among the bereaved is that someone came in as an Actor, switched rifles, and carried the dummy away somehow.”

“You don’t buy that.”

“Not for a hot second. Ah.”

Millicent’s wall screen beeped, and a picture took form. It showed a man in Eskimo makeup, pouchy cheeks, epicanthic folds, and long, glossy black Mongol hair. The next picture was of the same man out of makeup. The two pictures matched only vaguely.

“Have they run this through FBI? How long ago did this all happen?”

“Maybe ten years. And the FBI wouldn’t have looked too carefully. We never let them know just how serious it was.”

Millicent’s puzzlement was obvious and easy to understand. Griffin took a few minutes to explain the facts of life. When he was done, she exhaled harshly. “Wait. I’m going to need some coffee for this. You?”

“No, thanks. My ulcer already has all the acid it needs. Anyway, my bet is that that picture isn’t of our man. Anyone who could tamper with the Game data banks to reprogram a hologram can certainly change a few pictures. And the person who can do both of those things is no short-time employee. Even if he was, his intimate knowledge of Dream Park security and operations means that he had a collaborator.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“Not that difficult. Our traitor entered himself pseudonymously into the Gaming Actor roster. Donned makeup. On the day of the Game, guards ferried rifles from the armory to Gaming B. Our traitor got several of them to be distributed. He disassembled one and restored it to firing condition. For a practiced expert, maybe two minutes of work, but he had to be carrying the tools and parts he needed. He passed the rifle to Michelle Sturgeon, and got out of there… let himself be killed out, I’d guess. The stolen parts were dumped in a scrap-metal recycler.” Alex sighed. “That’s really all there is to it, Mil. I wish there were more.”

“Sure there’s more. Did he replace another Actor? Or was there just one extra Eskimo in the Game, made up out of whole cloth?”

“One extra. Numbers changed throughout the program.”

She mulled it. “So what can I do for you?”

“First, I want to know which Dream Park employees at the time had large registered blocks of stock in the company. It’s thin, but a natural way to pay off the traitor. Second, I want you to put a trace on the level of interest Mr. Kareem Fekesh had in the Park at the time. That will be hard. I’m sure that he covered his trail.”

“I… don’t know whether I can get that information, Alex.”

“Not alone. I’m going to get you help.”

“Help?”

“You’ll see.”

Sunlight was beginning to dwindle by the time Millicent teased the first precious pieces of data out of the computer banks. The list of stockholders in Cowles Industries circa 2048 was immense-there had been a profit-sharing plan in place far earlier than that, and many employees funneled their funds back into the Park. Only about twenty current employees had had over two hundred shares. Harmony’s name was there, and so was Dr. Vail. The other names were just names.

“Does this give you what you need?”

Alex scanned the list, nodding slowly. He glanced at his watch. “And my helper should be available any moment now.”

“Are you deliberately trying to be mysterious?”

“No more than usual-ah!”

A beep on Millicent’s desk told him that the new call had been routed through. It hadn’t taken long.

One section of her screen cleared, and a young man appeared. He had reddish hair and a thin face. His eyes looked tired but still very alive. His lips were curled sardonically. “Griffin. How go things in La-La Land?”