Read Online Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) by Robert B. Lowe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert B. Lowe
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on the brown blanket.
“Hey, Lloyd,” the guy in the serape greeted him.
Someone handed Warrington a bottle half filled with a pink fluid and he took a quick swig, keeping his eye on Lee the whole time.
Lee walked back to Warrington and stood over him.
“What about your trial?” said Lee. “You know the prosecutor and the judge both died after your trial.”
Warrington shaded his eyes with one hand as he squinted up at Lee. He took another swig from the bottle in his other hand.
“I guess the Bible would call that justice,” said Warrington.
***
AFTER THE THIRD ring, the computer 3,000 miles away answered the call. A few seconds later, a soft squeal was audible as the connection was made. “Access code:” read the white lettering that suddenly appeared on the deep blue screen of the monitor. The man sitting in front of it typed in: “Nightwriter.” Next, the computer asked for his user ID. He typed in the initials “GWK.” Finally, he was asked for his personal code, and he typed in: “Gloria.” He wondered for a moment who “Gloria” was. Maybe it was the wife or daughter of the person whose initials were “GWK”. Perhaps his mistress. Or his poodle.
The menu of words that suddenly appeared across the top of his screen flushed away the Intruder’s idle speculation. The list told him that with a few keystrokes he could look into GWK’s personal documents files, explore his electronic mail and even look into the computerized calendar to see what appointments were scheduled for the next day. But, the only thing about GWK that interested the Intruder was that through him the Intruder could access the same information for any of the 44 reporters on the staff of the San Francisco News.
In a couple of minutes, he was rummaging through the stored files of Enzo Lee. He bypassed 90 days worth of old newspaper stories and concentrated on everything the reporter had input into the computer since the day that Judge Miriam Gilbert and prosecutor Orson Adams had died. He was delighted to find that the reporter used the computer for everything: notes of interviews; telephone numbers of contacts and sources; appointments; even reminders to send birthday cards.
The Intruder was less sanguine to see that Enzo Lee had been assigned to cover the deaths of both Miriam Gilbert and Orson Adams, and that Sarah Armstrong was in his telephone list. But, the Intruder had anticipated the possibility that someone might try to link the deaths of the judge and prosecutor. As a hedge, he had made sure they were provided with such a connection in the form of a petty burglar named Lloyd Warrington. He was relieved to see that the planning was paying dividends. When he was finished with his electronic foray, the Intruder turned off the lights in his government office and joined the evening commute on his way home.
• • •
“ NI HAU MA, lai lai ,” said Lee.
His grandmother was staring out the window of her small room. She shuffled slowly on the green linoleum in her brown, fuzzy slippers until she could see Lee. She was tiny and seemed almost childlike to Lee. She was bent forward, her head naturally angled toward the floor unless she exerted the effort to lift it as she did now.
She blinked at Lee, focusing through thick eyeglasses that magnified her eyes to twice their size. Her hair was white and fell to her shoulders. Her face was round and held a wistful expression. She remained silent.
Lee walked over to her and guided her to a soft chair with padded arms.
“Sit down,” he said. “Look what I brought you.”
He produced a wrapped slice of wintermelon.
“Ummm,” she said, accepting the melon in both hands and inspecting the pale flesh. “Doeng gwa. Makes good soup.”
Lee usually brought his grandmother some sort of Chinese vegetable. She didn’t seem to realize that she couldn’t cook in the rest home. She would give the food to a nurse to keep for her and then forget about it. But, she
“Hey, Lloyd,” the guy in the serape greeted him.
Someone handed Warrington a bottle half filled with a pink fluid and he took a quick swig, keeping his eye on Lee the whole time.
Lee walked back to Warrington and stood over him.
“What about your trial?” said Lee. “You know the prosecutor and the judge both died after your trial.”
Warrington shaded his eyes with one hand as he squinted up at Lee. He took another swig from the bottle in his other hand.
“I guess the Bible would call that justice,” said Warrington.
***
AFTER THE THIRD ring, the computer 3,000 miles away answered the call. A few seconds later, a soft squeal was audible as the connection was made. “Access code:” read the white lettering that suddenly appeared on the deep blue screen of the monitor. The man sitting in front of it typed in: “Nightwriter.” Next, the computer asked for his user ID. He typed in the initials “GWK.” Finally, he was asked for his personal code, and he typed in: “Gloria.” He wondered for a moment who “Gloria” was. Maybe it was the wife or daughter of the person whose initials were “GWK”. Perhaps his mistress. Or his poodle.
The menu of words that suddenly appeared across the top of his screen flushed away the Intruder’s idle speculation. The list told him that with a few keystrokes he could look into GWK’s personal documents files, explore his electronic mail and even look into the computerized calendar to see what appointments were scheduled for the next day. But, the only thing about GWK that interested the Intruder was that through him the Intruder could access the same information for any of the 44 reporters on the staff of the San Francisco News.
In a couple of minutes, he was rummaging through the stored files of Enzo Lee. He bypassed 90 days worth of old newspaper stories and concentrated on everything the reporter had input into the computer since the day that Judge Miriam Gilbert and prosecutor Orson Adams had died. He was delighted to find that the reporter used the computer for everything: notes of interviews; telephone numbers of contacts and sources; appointments; even reminders to send birthday cards.
The Intruder was less sanguine to see that Enzo Lee had been assigned to cover the deaths of both Miriam Gilbert and Orson Adams, and that Sarah Armstrong was in his telephone list. But, the Intruder had anticipated the possibility that someone might try to link the deaths of the judge and prosecutor. As a hedge, he had made sure they were provided with such a connection in the form of a petty burglar named Lloyd Warrington. He was relieved to see that the planning was paying dividends. When he was finished with his electronic foray, the Intruder turned off the lights in his government office and joined the evening commute on his way home.
• • •
“ NI HAU MA, lai lai ,” said Lee.
His grandmother was staring out the window of her small room. She shuffled slowly on the green linoleum in her brown, fuzzy slippers until she could see Lee. She was tiny and seemed almost childlike to Lee. She was bent forward, her head naturally angled toward the floor unless she exerted the effort to lift it as she did now.
She blinked at Lee, focusing through thick eyeglasses that magnified her eyes to twice their size. Her hair was white and fell to her shoulders. Her face was round and held a wistful expression. She remained silent.
Lee walked over to her and guided her to a soft chair with padded arms.
“Sit down,” he said. “Look what I brought you.”
He produced a wrapped slice of wintermelon.
“Ummm,” she said, accepting the melon in both hands and inspecting the pale flesh. “Doeng gwa. Makes good soup.”
Lee usually brought his grandmother some sort of Chinese vegetable. She didn’t seem to realize that she couldn’t cook in the rest home. She would give the food to a nurse to keep for her and then forget about it. But, she
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