The Zero Game

“Billing Records,” the computer says. “Use F4 to maximize all windows.”

I stand behind Barry, watching over his shoulder. Viv’s by the door, staring up the hallway.

“Leaving menu bar. Search by-” Barry hits the Tab key. “Company name? Edit,” the computer asks.

He types the words Wendell Mining. When he hits the space bar, the computer announces whatever word he types, but his fingers are moving so fast, it comes out Wen – Mining.

The computer beeps, like something’s wrong.

“Client not found,” the computer says. “New search? Edit.”

“What’s going on?” Viv asks.

“Try just Wendell,” I add.

“Wendell,” the computer repeats as Barry types the word and hits Enter. There’s another beep. “Client not found. New search? Edit.”

“This doesn’t make sense,” Barry says. His hands are a blur of movement.

The female voice can’t keep up. “Ne – Sys – Wen – Min – Searching database...”

He’s widening the search. I stare intensely at the computer screen even though it’s all black. It’s better than watching Viv panic by the door.

“Harris, you still there?” Barry asks.

“Right here,” I reply as the computer whirs.

“Client not found in system,” the mechanized voice replies.

Barry respells it.

“Client not found in system.”

“What’s the problem?” I ask.

“Hold on a second.”

Barry hits the W, then the downward arrow key. “Waryn Enterprises,” the computer says. “Washington Mutual... Washington Post … Weiner & Robinson...” It’s searching alphabetically. “Wong Pharmaceuticals… Wilmington Trust… Xerox… Zuckerman International… End of record,” the computer finally says.

“You kidding me?” Barry says, still searching.

“Where are they?” I ask.

“End of record,” the computer repeats.

Barry hits the keyboard once more.

“End of record.”

“I don’t understand,” Barry says. His hands move faster than ever. “Full – Sys – Searching...”

“Barry, what the hell is going on?”

“Search error,” the female mechanized voice interrupts. “Client name not in system.”

I stare at the blank screen; Barry stares down at his keyboard.

“They’re gone,” Barry says. “Wendell Mining’s gone.”

“What’re you talking about? How can it be gone?”

“It’s not there.”

“Maybe someone forgot to enter it.”

“It already was entered. I checked it myself when I did the lobbying forms.”

“But if it’s not there now…”

“Someone took it out… or deleted the file,” Barry says. “I checked every spelling of Wendell… I went through the entire database. It’s like they were never clients.”

“Morning…” a short man in an expensive pinstriped suit says to Viv as he walks past the door to Barry’s office.

She turns my way. People are starting to arrive. “Harris, the longer we’re here…”

“I got it,” I say to Viv. My eyes stay on Barry. “What about hard copies? Is there anything else that might show that Pasternak worked with Wendell?”

Barry’s been blind for as long as I’ve known him. He knows panic when he hears it. “I-I guess there’s Pasternak’s client files…”

A loud chirp screeches through the air. All three of us wince at the sharpness of the sound.

“What in the hell-?”

“Fire alarm!” Viv calls out.

We give it a few seconds to shut itself off. No such luck.

Viv and I once again exchange glances. The alarm continues to scream. If Janos is here, it’s a perfect way to empty the building.

“Harris, please…” she begs.

I shake my head. Not yet.

“Does Pasternak still keep his files in his office?” I shout to Barry over the noise.

“Yeah… why?”

That’s all I need. “Let’s go,” I call to Viv, motioning her out into the hallway.

“Wait…!” Barry says, shooting out of his seat and following right behind us.

“Keep going,” I say to Viv, who’s a few steps in front of me. If Barry’s not involved, the last thing I want to do is suck him in.

As Barry steps into the hallway, I look back to make sure he’s okay. The short man in the pinstriped suit comes by to help him make his way outside. Barry brushes him off, rushing after us. “Harris, wait!”

He’s faster than I thought.

“Oh, crap,” Viv calls out as we turn the corner. Forcing our way out to the bank of elevators, we see this isn’t just a drill.

All three elevator doors are closed, but now there’s a chorus of three elevator alarms competing with the main fire alarm. A middle-aged man shoves open the metal emergency door to the stairs, and a wisp of dark gray smoke swims into the hall. The smell tells us the rest. Something’s definitely burning.

Viv looks at me over her shoulder. “You don’t think Janos-”

“C’mon,” I insist, rushing past her.