CHAPTER 26 JULY/AUGUST                                                                For the fifth time Liz opened the door of the oven and inspected her savoury pancakes. No amount of wishful thinking could disguise the fact that they were turning increasingly soggy and a dispiritingly darker shade of brown. Warm air from the oven swept over her. She closed the oven door, sat down by the table and mopped her brow with a cloth.          When she had agreed to play hostess to Allan and Rosa she had been genuinely interested to inspect this Rosa, but as the time drew near she became aware that it was she who was being inspected and that made her nervous and irritable. When the appointed hour came, and went, and there was still no sign of them, her irritation increased.          She had put some thought into the meal. With the primitive cooking facilities she had it was no use planning anything elegant but it had to be impressive in a casual kind of way, so she chose savoury pancakes as the basis of the meal. She had done that before with some success. Peter had boasted about her pancakes to his friends. It gave scope for a salad with local produce and a nice but inexpensive rosé wine. Melon would start them off and peaches would bring it to a close. The most expensive item had been the coffee. She had also dressed carefully. Nothing showy but a dress with a long skirt and a narrow bodice which would show off her slim figure. She put her hair into ringlets and tied a white bow.          As time passed her irritation turned to fear. She went to the window and leaned out into the cool night air. A radio was playing somewhere nearby - a Beatles tune with Latin American words. Thoughts of Peter came flooding back. For the thirtieth time she opened the door and stood on the verandah listening for the sound of Allan's Dodge. She had a fan. It had been her mother's and was almost the only thing she had that could be described as an heirloom. She used it now, like a Spanish senorita on the verandah with the white bow in her hair, her thoughts about Allan a mixture of anger, doubt and .... yes, love. She admitted that to herself now, but not enough to make her lose her head. Allan had a kind of boyish fanaticism which alarmed her. Peter had been the same. Maybe she was just a sucker for the type, but once bitten ...          After an hour she was reduced to taking Paracetamol tablets and lying on the bed. When she heard the Dodge the anger flooded back. Footsteps on the stairs. She made no move to open the door but stood up white faced with anger.          ‘Sorry Liz. We had car trouble,’ he said.          She turned away from him angrily, expecting to feel his hands on her shoulders. She turned round again. There was a gadget in his hand which looked like a gold fountain pen. He waved it about the room, stepping up on to a chair to wave it near the hanging light fitting.          She said angrily, ‘What do you think ...’          He put a finger to his lips.          *      *      *      *      *          Rosa understood but Allan was confused. They were only an hour late after all. First the Dodge had refused to start. A mechanic from the Springs service station had traced it to a faulty plug connection. Then they had had to stop outside the complex in the desert to debug the truck with Halpern's pen-gadget. They found a bug under the dashboard and a tracer device clamped magnetically to the inside of a rear wheel arch. They left the tracer where it was and put the bug under the bonnet so that it picked up nothing but engine noise. He had found nothing in Liz's apartment but told her about the bugs in the car to justify their lateness. To his surprise she seemed to get even more annoyed.          Liz put the food on the table and turned away quickly. The bow had come out of her hair and locks were straggling across her brow. Allan thought she looked stunning but he had enough sense to keep that thought to himself. Rosa did what she could to help but Liz resented the conspiratorial glances she detected flying between her and Allan.          ‘Cheers,’ said Rosa cautiously taking a sip of wine. ‘Is this a local wine? It's very good.’          ‘At least it couldn't burn,’ said Liz. She laughed wearily and let out a long sigh.          Rosa frowned and shook her head at Allan when she saw him about to say something. They ate in silence. It wasn't so spoiled really - a few blackened edges which could be pushed to the side and the melon was succulent. Liz took a second glass of wine and relaxed.          Over dessert Rosa said, ‘Allan has something important he wants to tell you about, but he's frightened to open his mouth.’          ‘I'm glad,’ said Liz. She looked straight at him. ‘You are frightening me to death. Do you know that?’          He nodded, contrite. ‘I'm sorry.’          Liz said, ‘What kind of place is this? Peter found out something at MCI and was thrown out of a window. But that's not enough for you. You've got to go poking and prying into the same thing. Why should I bother with you? Why should I care? Why should I get involved? Bugs in cars! Burglaries at my flat! I don't want it!’ Rosa put her arm round her. Allan dithered.          ‘It is important Liz,’ said Rosa. ‘Allan has found out now what it is all about. Just listen to what he has to say and then you can decide if you want to be involved. It's your choice. You can walk away from it if you want to.’          Liz shook Rosa's arm off and mumbled something.          ‘What dear?’ said Rosa.          ‘I don't want to walk away from it!’ said Liz loudly. ‘I don't want to be patronised. I want to know what's going on and I don't want any more deaths!’          *      *      *      *      *          So Allan told her about Halpern's plan. She listened to him sitting on the sofa, leaning forwards with her head buried in her hands but she looked up when he mentioned Argentina and looked startled when he got to the bit about the hundred thousand dollars.          ‘When is this to happen?’ She was bewildered.          ‘Saturday,’ said Rosa. ‘That's when we are supposed to go to El Paso for another horse-riding lesson. I think you should take up the offer, Allan. It's a chance to get right out of it with some money to start again.’          ‘I don't think I could come back,’ said Allan. ‘Not to MCI anyway. They'd be suspicious if two people from Gairnock disappeared at the same time.’          Rosa said, ‘You could go back to Scotland with a nice nest egg.’          Allan was dubious. ‘It'd be worth it only if I can meet Liz in Argentina. What do you say Liz?’          ‘No,’ Liz said shaking her head. ‘I'm not taking the decision for you. I'm not a part of this.’          He thought for a moment and then said ‘If I don't help him, Halpern will be killed like John Seaton.’          Liz looked at him and said coldly, ‘You haven't told me about anyone called Seaton. When did he get murdered?’          Allan sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. His voice was tired.          ‘He was a friend of Halpern's. They were both dabbling in the stock market with inside knowledge. That's why he's rich.’          ‘You haven't told me everything. have you?’          ‘No I haven't. You always said you didn't want to know about high-tech stuff. Well this is high-tech and then some.’          ‘Tell me now.’          Allan looked at Rosa. Rosa shrugged and looked away. He scratched his head, sucked his cheeks in, stoked his chin and then told her.          ‘There is a conspiracy in MCI - and elsewhere. It seems to be all over the place. MCI chips have been doctored so that they have what we call `a secret passage'. It means that with a special password you can get into to any MCI computer and do what you like. Lots of countries use MCI computers to run their elections and the big idea is to replace the vote counting programs to rig the elections. Wensley Halpern was part of the conspiracy but he got greedy and used the information he had to line his own pockets. So now the conspirators are going to eliminate him if he doesn't run and fake his own death. I think he has a lot of money stashed away and he's probably carrying a fake passport.’          Liz said coldly ‘Why don't you just tell the authorities.’          Allan spoke calmly hoping cold facts would end the argument. ‘The authorities are part of the conspiracy. My friend Bob Chalmers told the authorities in Britain. I found him lying on a railway line with his head chopped off.’          Rosa looked at him wide-eyed. ‘YOU found him!’          He looked back at Rosa. ‘The night before I flew here. I was supposed to meet him but I was late..... I found him and then I left him there for someone else to find.’          Rosa closed her eyes and shuddered.          Liz said, ‘And just what did you think you could do to stop this?’          ‘I've written a program - two programs. The first one is a virus. No, really it's a virus and a worm rolled into one...’ Liz tossed her head impatiently and he hurried on. ‘If I put it into the MCI network it will infect every computer on the network. But it won't print any silly messages on April First or anything like that. It will just sit there protecting itself, preventing itself from being discovered. If they replace a machine it will be immediately re-infected by the other machines. That's the way the program works. The second program sits inside the first and is protected by it. Its job is to examine all the programs being run on the computer and if there is a program being replaced, it compares the old program with the new one and detects any nasty tricks it tries. It uses the theory Rosa and I developed to prove the correctness of the new program. I also gave it the formal specification of a correct vote counting program for comparison.’          Rosa leaned over and placed a hand on his forearm. Liz saw the gesture and turned away. Allan went on.          ‘If it detects anything out of order it switches the programs back again. So if the conspiracy tries to rig the elections it will rig them back again and make them come out the way people really voted.’          ‘Have you actually done this?’ said Rosa.          ‘Not yet. I need one more bit of information. The password to the Labyrinth. My program needs it to infect new machines on the network.’          ‘How could you do this and get away with it?’ said Liz.          ‘Stealing the password for the Labyrinth could be risky,’ said Allan ‘But I thought I might use Halpern's computer directory name to do it. He's also got a very fancy microcomputer with a radio-transmitter. With that I could send my stuff into the network from somewhere in the mountains. I rather fancied the Plaza del Toros.’          Liz was walking about the room. She started tidying up. Putting dishes in the sink. Rosa and Allan got up to help. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I'll do it. I know where. You go on talking.’          Rosa said ‘I'll wash.’          Liz ignored her. She said, ‘And this is what Peter was on about? That's why they killed him?’          ‘I think so,’ said Allan.          ‘He'd found this password thing. And wanted to stop them.’          ‘Yes. From what you've told me that must be it.’          Rosa handed Liz a plate and she dried it. She put it on a pile of plates.          ‘Would it work?’ she said suddenly.          ‘I think so.’          ‘What would they do about your program? Can't they just delete it or something?’          ‘If it did what I want it to do they wouldn't even know it was there. They'll just get a shock when the election results are announced.’ He laughed and then wished he hadn't.          She put another plate on the pile. ‘You're all caught up in this aren't you? Your own cleverness - outsmarting them. I think you should do whatever you want to do. Just don't ask me to have any part of it. I just want to get on with my life.’          Rosa looked from Liz to Allan and back again. He was still sitting at the table. He was playing with the salt cellar but his eyes were focused on infinity. He said, ‘If I took a holiday now perhaps they wouldn't link it to Halpern's disappearance.’          ‘Could you take a holiday at such short notice?’ said Rosa and then after a pause she added ‘What about your uncle. You said he was ill.’          Allan looked at her speculatively. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That sounds plausible doesn't it. You bring me news of my uncle. I catch a plane for Scotland, only, when I land at Monte Video, I catch another back and then head for the hills to rendezvous with Halpern. I come back a few weeks later and forget about the conspiracy. How about that Liz?’          Liz lifted the pile of clean plates and put them in a cupboard. She didn't look at him. ‘Suit yourself,’ she said coldly. ‘I think you two'd better go now.’                   *      *      *      *      *          Driving back.          Rosa said, ‘She`ll come round Allan.’          He drove in silence. In the gleam of the headlights the road was a broad chalk line leading them across the desert.          Later she asked, ‘What are you going to do? Have you made up your mind?’          A minute later he said, ‘Don't know.’          Stars, millions of them, were diamond hard points of light in the clear night sky.          ‘Tell me about your program.’          That was easier. Technical details. She understood at once. He got enthusiastic. They argued and threw about more ideas. It was almost like old times.          ‘That's brilliant Allan. It has to work. Why have you called it Vidar?’          ‘Norse Sagas,’ said Allan. ‘Vidar was Odin's son. There was a great day of reckoning - a sort of Gotterdammerung - called the `Day of Ragnarok'. Odin was killed by a wolf called Fenris and Vidar put his foot on the wolf's lower jaw, grabbed its upper jaw in his bare hands and tore it apart. He had magic shoes you see which protected his feet. Then the evil god Surtur set fire to the world and the Yggdrasil Tree with his sword. It's supposed to be a folk memory of the eruption of the volcano Hekla in Iceland. Anyway, Vidar survived .... and my program will survive ..... no matter what they do to get rid of it .... it's got magic shoes too ... It leaves no footprints.’                   Silence again. Engine noise and the buzz of tyres on concrete.          ‘One thing puzzles me though,’ said Rosa. ‘Wouldn't it take a while to load your program?’          A shooting star fizzed across the sky.          ‘Yes,’ said Allan. ‘about ten or fifteen minutes I would say.’          ‘And if you use a radio transmitter wouldn't they notice that, take cross bearings and home in on your location.’          He drove on for a while.          ‘Yes,’ he said eventually. ‘That is a bit of a snag. But I didn't think it was a good idea to tell Liz about that.’          Rosa said, ‘She'll change her mind. You'll see. She really loves you. I can tell.’          Allan said suddenly, ‘I can't leave Halpern on his own. I've got to help him.’          Rosa said, ‘Yes. I understand. He really doesn't deserve your help but I know what you mean.’          ‘I'm going to help Halpern escape and come back,’ Allan said. His voice was too loud. ‘I'll arrange a holiday like you suggested. Use Uncle Roddy as an excuse and say I'm going back to Scotland.’          A moment later.          ‘I'll see Halpern tonight when we get back. I can pack the truck with the gear tonight, arrange my leave tomorrow morning and drive down to Santiago tomorrow evening. Then I'll double back ...... after I've booked on a flight to Europe.’          The road surface changed. Vibration. The tyres sang then resumed their drone.          ‘After that .... I don't know really. I might still do the virus-program thing. It'd be much safer to do it from a terminal within the complex. But if I'm spotted, Rosa, I'll have to run for Argentina. The money would be useful then.’          ‘They'd follow you.’          ‘Not if they thought I was dead.’                            *      *      *      *      *          Midnight.          He had dropped Rosa off at the Shower Tower, gone back to Gracewell, packed the truck and returned.          No sign of Halpern in the swimming-pool. He walked back to the truck. There was a glass covered walk-way from the door of the conference centre to the pool and from the driving seat of the truck he could see anyone using it.          Twelve-fifteen. He dug into the glove-box and found an apple left there from a weekend trip. Thoughts jumbled in his head. Liz. Did she really mean it? Rosa. She had kissed him and held him tight.          Twelve twenty-five. The fountain was turned off at night and for a few hours the complex was quiet. Most of the building was dark but there were a few windows high up which were brightly lit. Dianne. He couldn't walk away and leave her father to his fate.          Twelve-thirty-five. He got out of the truck and walked on the balls of his feet towards the entrance. The night-lights made it glow yellow. He could see the security guard in his tan uniform sitting at the desk.          *      *      *      *      *          The night security guard was bored. Beside his desk he had an array of television monitors showing empty corridors and doorways throughout the hotel but his attention was on another which was showing an episode of 'Mission Impossible'. In the film the heroes were slipping into a well protected-building under the nose of a security guard, who was bored and watching television.          The guard shifted his eyes to the monitor showing the front door. A man was there. The man pressed the night-attendant button, swiped his ID card through the reader and then held it up to the camera to show his picture. The guard did a cursory check, pressed the admittance button and switched his attention back to the film. The guard in the film was being amazingly lax.          *      *      *      *      *          Allan rode the elevator to the ninth floor. In the silence, the hum it made seemed unnaturally loud. The indicator lights crawled upwards towards 'nine'. As the doors opened he kept his hand on the button as if he was going higher and waited a second or two before putting his head out of the doors.          The corridor lights were on 'dim'. There did not seem to be any one there but the far end was obscured in shadow. He stepped out and made for the 'exit' sign, trying to walk nonchalantly. The staircase was of uncovered stone and the stairwell had a whispering echoed no matter how gently he placed his feet. At level eight he re-emerged into the corridor. Again the passageway was empty.          802 was at the far end. There was a light showing under the door and there was a noise inside as he knocked gently. Yes - definitely a noise. The door handle turned and the door opened a few inches. The square face of a man he had never seen before was framed in the gap.          ‘Yes?’          ‘Dr. Halpern?’ Allan had prepared his reaction.          ‘He's not here, kid who wants him?’          ‘I had a message for Dr. Halpern. Is this his room?’          ‘It might be. Who's the message from?’          ‘I don't know, Sir. I was just asked to give to him by reception. I'm sorry to trouble you Sir. I'll double check at the desk.’          He turned. His clothes didn't match the story but he reckoned he had to fool the man behind the door for only a few seconds. As he walked towards the lift he was listening for the door closing.          ‘Hold it son.’          He stopped and turned slowly. The man had opened the door a little wider so that most of his body could be seen. He was thick set and wore a grey suit and black shoes and in his right hand he had a black gun which he was pointing at Allan's chest.          He flicked the gun to motion Allan back towards him.          ‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘Dr Fraser isn't it? You nearly had me fooled for a second. Just step inside please.’ He pushed the door open wider.                   The room was a shambles. All the drawers had been pulled out and the contents strewn on the floor. A suitcase had been emptied on to the bed and beside it was a microcomputer in the cream and tan case of an MCI machine. There was another man in the room. He was standing in the doorway to the bathroom with one hand by his side and the other with a fist propped on his waist.          ‘We got a visitor.’ said the first man.          The man in the bathroom doorway held a coil of rope in his hand and beyond him Allan could see another pair of legs in grey flannel and black shoes.... and Halpern's socks. The feet were off the floor and rotating slowly.          The windows stood wide and the curtains floated in the gentle breeze. The man with the gun waved Allan towards the window. As Allan moved he pushed him hard in the back propelling him towards the window and the narrow balcony beyond. Allan kept his feet and his head. The Shower Tower had balconies just like the Gracewell. He stepped forwards quickly out through the window, placed a hand on the balcony rail and vaulted into space. Both men stood transfixed as Allan's body rose, pirouetted in the air and fell beyond the rail, facing inwards. As he fell Allan switched his hands and allowed them to slide down the vertical balustrades to their base. Then he gripped the rails hard and swung inwards letting go at the last minute to propel himself feet first towards the balcony of the room below. There was a small table with a pot plant on the balcony and he hit it with his feet, smashed it to pieces and nearly fell backwards over the rail again.          Above him he heard the expletives. An arm appeared through the railings above. There was a gun in the hand at the end of the arm and it was waving about to try to get in a blind shot. Allan lifted one of the broken table legs and swung hard at the hand. It made contact with a satisfying crunch of breaking bones and the gun spun off into the darkness. There was a yell and the arm withdrew. He heard someone saying ‘Shit!’ several times. He put his shoulder through the louvred doors and crashed into the room behind him. It was empty and dark. He groped for the door.          There was still no one in the corridor but he could hear feet on the stairs and the lift was moving. He pressed the elevator buttons and then saw the fire-alarm button beside them. His hand hovered over the button-push for a second .... and then he lowered it. The alarm would have filled the corridors with people and made it difficult for his pursuers but it would also have made it impossible for him to escape unseen. He was back inside the room when he heard the corridor doors crash open.          There was no sound from above as he stepped out once more on to the balcony. At the right hand end he stepped over the rail and then with one hand on the rail and one foot on the balcony beyond the rail he leaned backwards and reached a foot out into the darkness towards the recess he knew lay in the shadow. At full stretch his foot made contact with the wall on the other side of the recess. His free hand groped for the near edge of the recess and when he had it he levered himself into the straddle position across the recess facing outwards. There was someone in the room he had just left. He heard a step on the balcony and a hand appeared on the rail. Someone was bending over looking downwards.          A voice said ‘Nothing here Ted. Staircase.’ and another voice said ‘Shit!’ and the hand disappeared.          Up or down?          Safety lay downwards but what he wanted was upwards. He shuffled, switching his weight between hands and feet, pressing hard against the opposing walls of the recess, moving upwards until he was level with the balcony of the room above. There he reversed the manoeuvre and climbed on to the balcony.          The room was empty of people except for Halpern's body dangling from the shower-rail. The contents of the wardrobe had been thrown on the floor. He found a green towelling dressing gown and stripped the draw-cord out of it to fashion a makeshift harness for the microcomputer. Halpern's jacket was lying on the bed and his briefcase. The contents had been stacked neatly on the dresser.          Passport, money mostly dollar bills. He stuffed paper into his pockets. There had to be something else. Quick-eyed, he looked round the room.          Leather shaving bag. He had interrupted the search. They hadn't got that far yet. He tipped the contents on to the bed.          Razor, after-shave, shaving-foam, hair-brush ... brown envelope.          He tore it open. Another passport ... Canadian ... name of ... Oh my God! Wensley! How could you? More documents. They all went into his pockets. He bulged.          Once more he returned to the balcony and climbed out into the straddle position across the recess. The microcomputer was a dead weight against his chest. There was no one on the grass below him. Moving rhythmically from hand to foot like a lizard he descended the recess until he was ten feet from the ground. Foot steps sounded and he froze. The dark figure of a man appeared round the corner of the building and stopped directly below him. The man shrank back into the shadow of the recess and waited. A faint glint of light showed on the gun he had in his hand. It had to be one of his pursuers, waiting perhaps for him to jump from one of the lower windows. Allan judged the distance and then dropped the remaining distance to land with his feet on to the man's shoulders. He heard the collar bone snapping. Then he sprinted for the Dodge.                            *      *      *      *      *          TRANSMIT          He pressed the button.          The screen prompted him for name and password. Holding a torch between his teeth he read the password from the twist of paper and typed it slowly.          Names on the screen. Scan. Move down through the hierarchy of directories.          No jamming signal yet. Were they watching? Would they try to fix his position?          More file names. Scan again. And again. There they were! The programs which customized the Labyrinth.          Type the TRANSFER command. The file contents were loading over the airwaves into the floppy on the micro. How long would it take? Nice machine! You always chose the best for yourself Wensley.          Still no jamming signal. They must be trying to get a fix.          He stood up and listened. The sky above was crowded with silent stars. Across the stillness of the desert - from the direction of Ocean Springs. Helicopters? There! He heard the throb of heavy rotors starting up.          TRANSFER COMPLETE.          He stabbed at the transmit button to cut the signal and switched the machine off. Time to go. No tracer device on the back wheel arch now. It was clamped to a car in the car park by the Shower Tower. No fancy diversions or laying false trails flying to Santiago. No time to tell Liz. Or Rosa. Halpern would be found by hotel staff in the morning. Rosa would hear. She would guess he'd run. Surely she would guess. And she would tell Liz. No time to be sure. Just go like Hell for the mountains - those black wedges where the prickly stars stopped, big black mountains growing bigger by the minute as he raced towards them.