Jarvis, Maybe, Gwen, Joe Penny, Jeff Tuck—”
“What about Callie?” I ask.
“We can’t get access to anything owned by Callie.”
“Why not?”
“She’s too careful.”
“More careful than me?”
They all start laughing again.
I say, “You’re telling me you could kill me and all my crew with the simple entry of a code?”
“Yes, provided you’re near your computers.”
“You could wait for us to start typing, then kill us.”
Curly turns to Larry and says, “By George, I think he’s got it!”
I say, “Who authorized you to plant bombs in our computers?”
“Darwin.”
“Wait. Which Darwin?”
“As you well know, there’s only one Darwin. Dr. Petrovsky.”
“You knew who Darwin was all this time and never told anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
“No one ever asked us.”
“But Lou thought Dr. Howard was Darwin. He killed him.”
C.H. shakes his head as if saddened by my intellectual inefficiency. He says, “Dr. Petrovsky paid Lou forty million dollars to kill Dr. Howard and frame him for being Darwin. It was part of his exit plan.”
“Does Dr. P. still possess the code?”
“Yes. Should we change it?”
I do a double take. Dr. P., my new business partner, could have killed me and the entire crew, all but Callie, at any time. And still can.
“Don’t change the code. Cancel it. Immediately.”
Larry salutes me. “Yes, sir!”
“What about your agents?” C.H. says.
“Theirs, too.”
“But what if you want to kill them sometime?” Larry asks.
“I don’t kill my friends,” I say.
They look at each other.
“What?”
C.H. says, “Why does the name Augustus Quinn come to mind?”
I frown. “That’s different.”
He says, “It’s always different when they do it.”
“Can you disable the kill code while I wait?”
“Of course.”
Larry says, “I assume you’ll want us to clear you for a retinal scan.”
I say, “No. This is your home. I know how much you value your privacy.”
“What about emergencies?” C.H. says.
“You’ve been here for years. I’m sure you can handle any emergencies that come your way.”
They seem happy and sad. Happy I don’t want to impose, but sad that I don’t want to have access, like Lou did. So I add, “As we become closer, over time, I would love to have access to your area. But even so, I won’t go beyond the lobby without your permission.”
That brings big smiles to their little mouths.
“Want to take a tour?” Curly says.
“Would you like me to?”
“Absolutely!”
“How about you cancel the kill code first?”
15.
GEEK CITY TURNS out to be six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a conference room, kitchen, workshop, laundry room, and a computer room that defies explanation. They’re music nerds, each possessing a private collection of more than ten thousand songs that blare constantly from breakfast to dinner, at the highest possible volume.
“Do you ever play the same song at the same time?” I ask.
They look at each other and smile. C.H. says, “What a perfect question to ask! Every afternoon at precisely two-forty-six, we play Dream Merchant , by Gee Gee Shinn.”
Not that I give a shit, but because of the way they’re looking at me, I ask, “Why that particular song?”
“The four of us programmed our individual music into our peripheral computers,” Larry says. “Day after day for years no two computers ever played the same song at the same time.”
C.H. says, “Until eighteen months ago. One afternoon, at two-forty-six, two computers played Dream Merchant at the same time.”
“Do you know what the odds are of that happening?” C.H. says.
“A million to one?” I say.
Curly yells, “Jimmy Charles! Nineteen sixty!”
Larry shouts, “Patterson, New Jersey!”
C.H. says, “That’s nothing. Nothing ! Who sang backup?” While the others struggle to answer, he yells “The Revellettes!”
“Ah, but who were in the Revellettes?” I say.
They look at each other and
“What about Callie?” I ask.
“We can’t get access to anything owned by Callie.”
“Why not?”
“She’s too careful.”
“More careful than me?”
They all start laughing again.
I say, “You’re telling me you could kill me and all my crew with the simple entry of a code?”
“Yes, provided you’re near your computers.”
“You could wait for us to start typing, then kill us.”
Curly turns to Larry and says, “By George, I think he’s got it!”
I say, “Who authorized you to plant bombs in our computers?”
“Darwin.”
“Wait. Which Darwin?”
“As you well know, there’s only one Darwin. Dr. Petrovsky.”
“You knew who Darwin was all this time and never told anyone?”
“Yes.”
“Why not?”
“No one ever asked us.”
“But Lou thought Dr. Howard was Darwin. He killed him.”
C.H. shakes his head as if saddened by my intellectual inefficiency. He says, “Dr. Petrovsky paid Lou forty million dollars to kill Dr. Howard and frame him for being Darwin. It was part of his exit plan.”
“Does Dr. P. still possess the code?”
“Yes. Should we change it?”
I do a double take. Dr. P., my new business partner, could have killed me and the entire crew, all but Callie, at any time. And still can.
“Don’t change the code. Cancel it. Immediately.”
Larry salutes me. “Yes, sir!”
“What about your agents?” C.H. says.
“Theirs, too.”
“But what if you want to kill them sometime?” Larry asks.
“I don’t kill my friends,” I say.
They look at each other.
“What?”
C.H. says, “Why does the name Augustus Quinn come to mind?”
I frown. “That’s different.”
He says, “It’s always different when they do it.”
“Can you disable the kill code while I wait?”
“Of course.”
Larry says, “I assume you’ll want us to clear you for a retinal scan.”
I say, “No. This is your home. I know how much you value your privacy.”
“What about emergencies?” C.H. says.
“You’ve been here for years. I’m sure you can handle any emergencies that come your way.”
They seem happy and sad. Happy I don’t want to impose, but sad that I don’t want to have access, like Lou did. So I add, “As we become closer, over time, I would love to have access to your area. But even so, I won’t go beyond the lobby without your permission.”
That brings big smiles to their little mouths.
“Want to take a tour?” Curly says.
“Would you like me to?”
“Absolutely!”
“How about you cancel the kill code first?”
15.
GEEK CITY TURNS out to be six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a conference room, kitchen, workshop, laundry room, and a computer room that defies explanation. They’re music nerds, each possessing a private collection of more than ten thousand songs that blare constantly from breakfast to dinner, at the highest possible volume.
“Do you ever play the same song at the same time?” I ask.
They look at each other and smile. C.H. says, “What a perfect question to ask! Every afternoon at precisely two-forty-six, we play Dream Merchant , by Gee Gee Shinn.”
Not that I give a shit, but because of the way they’re looking at me, I ask, “Why that particular song?”
“The four of us programmed our individual music into our peripheral computers,” Larry says. “Day after day for years no two computers ever played the same song at the same time.”
C.H. says, “Until eighteen months ago. One afternoon, at two-forty-six, two computers played Dream Merchant at the same time.”
“Do you know what the odds are of that happening?” C.H. says.
“A million to one?” I say.
Curly yells, “Jimmy Charles! Nineteen sixty!”
Larry shouts, “Patterson, New Jersey!”
C.H. says, “That’s nothing. Nothing ! Who sang backup?” While the others struggle to answer, he yells “The Revellettes!”
“Ah, but who were in the Revellettes?” I say.
They look at each other and
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