readily
accepted. Desh returned thirty-five minutes later carrying a paper sack
containing a number of white, garden-variety Chinese takeout boxes and knocked
on the door.
Griffin
hurriedly undid the locks and opened the door with a broad,
cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his bearded face. “I did it,” he announced
triumphantly.
“Fantastic!”
said Desh, handing him the bag of Chinese food and shutting the door behind
him. “What did you find?” he asked eagerly.
“You
were right about her. She’s good. Very good.”
Griffin
sat down at his desk chair and set the bag of food on the floor beside him. “If
she really does have a background in biology rather than computers, I think
she’s earned rookie of the year honors.”
Desh
lifted the large wicker chair with one arm and moved it a few feet back so it
was facing Griffin. Desh sat down, his eyes locked intently on the giant as he
continued.
“It
turns out that all three journals have a number of, ah . . . discount subscribers, shall we say, that they don’t know about. Somehow, considering the
nature of these journals, that surprised me.”
“Didn’t
think readers of such scholarly journals would engage in petty theft?”
Griffin
nodded.
“Nothing
surprises me anymore,” said Desh cynically. “So how did you sort through them
to find her?” he pressed, not allowing the discussion to become sidetracked.
“Two
of the journals were being siphoned to the same e-mail address as of about ten
months ago. No other stolen subscriptions among the three journals had the same
signature.”
“Good
work,” said Desh appreciatively. “Now tell me the bad news.”
“What
makes you think there is any?”
“It couldn’t be this easy.”
Griffin
smiled. “You’re right, as it turns out. It’s a dead end. She’s more sophisticated
than I had guessed. The e-mailed journals are routed through an impenetrable maze
of computers. Even someone better than me—if such a person existed,” he added,
grinning, “wouldn’t be able to trace through all the relays to find her
computer.”
Desh
frowned. “At least we know she’s still alive.”
“And
still keeping up on the latest research,” added Griffin.
Desh
nodded at the bag of food. “Dig in,” he offered.
Griffin
went to the kitchen and returned with large plastic forks and the biggest cardboard
plates Desh had ever seen, with a cheerful, orange-and-yellow floral pattern
printed on each one. He handed a fork and plate to Desh, and dumped two full
containers of cashew chicken along with a container of white rice on his plate.
Desh slopped half a box of beef broccoli onto his own plate with some rice, and
began picking at it, while Griffin shoveled the food into his giant maw as
rapidly as he had navigated the Web.
“You’ve
done a nice job, Matt,” said Desh. “We’ve made faster progress than I expected.
But this is about where I thought we’d end up.”
“So
any ideas of where to go from here?”
Desh
nodded thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, yes. We can’t trace her through all
her relays, but can we use them to contact her?”
Griffin
raised his eyebrows. “Interesting thought.”
“Well?”
pressed Desh.
“Sure.
It would be easy. Just name your message and I’ll send it,” he offered
helpfully.
Desh
held up a hand. “Not just yet,” he said. “I’d like to ping her first. Send in
some tracking software that she’ll detect and defeat.”
“To
what end?”
“So
she knows someone’s out there turning over this particular rock looking for
her.”
“You
sure that’s a good idea? It gives her a warning. Also, it’s in her best
interest to have as much information as possible about whoever is pursuing her.
If I were her, I’d trace the ping back to us.”
“That’s
what I’m counting on,” said Desh with a thin smile. He rose and lifted his
black laptop off the corner of Griffin’s desk. “I want you to set everything up
on my laptop, so when she does
accepted. Desh returned thirty-five minutes later carrying a paper sack
containing a number of white, garden-variety Chinese takeout boxes and knocked
on the door.
Griffin
hurriedly undid the locks and opened the door with a broad,
cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on his bearded face. “I did it,” he announced
triumphantly.
“Fantastic!”
said Desh, handing him the bag of Chinese food and shutting the door behind
him. “What did you find?” he asked eagerly.
“You
were right about her. She’s good. Very good.”
Griffin
sat down at his desk chair and set the bag of food on the floor beside him. “If
she really does have a background in biology rather than computers, I think
she’s earned rookie of the year honors.”
Desh
lifted the large wicker chair with one arm and moved it a few feet back so it
was facing Griffin. Desh sat down, his eyes locked intently on the giant as he
continued.
“It
turns out that all three journals have a number of, ah . . . discount subscribers, shall we say, that they don’t know about. Somehow, considering the
nature of these journals, that surprised me.”
“Didn’t
think readers of such scholarly journals would engage in petty theft?”
Griffin
nodded.
“Nothing
surprises me anymore,” said Desh cynically. “So how did you sort through them
to find her?” he pressed, not allowing the discussion to become sidetracked.
“Two
of the journals were being siphoned to the same e-mail address as of about ten
months ago. No other stolen subscriptions among the three journals had the same
signature.”
“Good
work,” said Desh appreciatively. “Now tell me the bad news.”
“What
makes you think there is any?”
“It couldn’t be this easy.”
Griffin
smiled. “You’re right, as it turns out. It’s a dead end. She’s more sophisticated
than I had guessed. The e-mailed journals are routed through an impenetrable maze
of computers. Even someone better than me—if such a person existed,” he added,
grinning, “wouldn’t be able to trace through all the relays to find her
computer.”
Desh
frowned. “At least we know she’s still alive.”
“And
still keeping up on the latest research,” added Griffin.
Desh
nodded at the bag of food. “Dig in,” he offered.
Griffin
went to the kitchen and returned with large plastic forks and the biggest cardboard
plates Desh had ever seen, with a cheerful, orange-and-yellow floral pattern
printed on each one. He handed a fork and plate to Desh, and dumped two full
containers of cashew chicken along with a container of white rice on his plate.
Desh slopped half a box of beef broccoli onto his own plate with some rice, and
began picking at it, while Griffin shoveled the food into his giant maw as
rapidly as he had navigated the Web.
“You’ve
done a nice job, Matt,” said Desh. “We’ve made faster progress than I expected.
But this is about where I thought we’d end up.”
“So
any ideas of where to go from here?”
Desh
nodded thoughtfully. “As a matter of fact, yes. We can’t trace her through all
her relays, but can we use them to contact her?”
Griffin
raised his eyebrows. “Interesting thought.”
“Well?”
pressed Desh.
“Sure.
It would be easy. Just name your message and I’ll send it,” he offered
helpfully.
Desh
held up a hand. “Not just yet,” he said. “I’d like to ping her first. Send in
some tracking software that she’ll detect and defeat.”
“To
what end?”
“So
she knows someone’s out there turning over this particular rock looking for
her.”
“You
sure that’s a good idea? It gives her a warning. Also, it’s in her best
interest to have as much information as possible about whoever is pursuing her.
If I were her, I’d trace the ping back to us.”
“That’s
what I’m counting on,” said Desh with a thin smile. He rose and lifted his
black laptop off the corner of Griffin’s desk. “I want you to set everything up
on my laptop, so when she does
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