Free The Desperate Game: (InterMix) by Jayne Castle

room, revealed in brief glimpses under the gleam of Zac’s small flashlight, appeared to have been done in postcollege-dorm decadence. Apparently Cal was still under the influence of the academic environment he had left behind only a year previously. Several advertising posters from software firms decorated the wall. The furniture was an eclectic combination of Goodwill discards except for the large desk that supported an IBM personal computer. It was a little difficult to spot the computer at first because it was nearly hidden beneath a maze of empty ice cream containers, magazines, operation manuals, and printouts.
    Guinevere glanced around uneasily as she halted by the desk. “What a mess.”
    “Remember what I said. Don’t touch anything.”
    “If you’d paid attention to those articles on modern management you claimed to have read, you’d know you’re supposed to give orders in a positive, supportive manner, not a negative, bossy style.”
    “I’m still studying the subject,” he told her absently as he scanned the surface of the desk. “Stay here while I take a quick look in the bedroom.”
    Zac moved off toward the hall on surprisingly silent feet. For such a solidly built man he moved very quietly, Guinevere realized. She stood in the darkness, watching him disappear, and came to the obvious conclusion that he’d done this sort of thing before. The thought was not vastly reassuring. She wondered why he had been so insistent on bringing her along tonight. Surely he could have moved more quickly and assumed fewer risks if he’d come out here alone. The small puzzle occupied her while she peered down at the shadowed desk.
    There was just barely enough moonlight filtering in from the window for her to see a plastic box full of computer disks sitting amid the rubble. She was leaning across the desk to lift the lid of the box when Zac materialized at her shoulder. Guinevere jumped in spite of herself.
    “Don’t sneak up on me like that! You want to give me heart failure?”
    He ignored the question. “What’s that?”
    “A box of disks. I was just wondering if any of the Elf Hunt material is stored in there. Larry has been sinking rapidly into a decline because he’s had to wait for Cal to finish some piece of the game.”
    “Elf Hunt?” Zac’s tone was sharp.
    “Named after a close friend of yours, I’m afraid,” she told him. “I gather Cal and Larry couldn’t resist the play on Elfstrom’s name. Shine your light in here.”
    “I told you not to touch anything.” Hastily Zac pushed her hand aside and opened the box with the aid of the handkerchief.
    The rows of neatly labeled disks popped into view. Carefully Zac began flipping through them, reading the titles. There were word processing programs, games, math programs, and several labels with titles in such obscure abbreviations that neither Zac nor Guinevere could guess what they meant.
    “He’s really into this home computer thing, isn’t he?” Zac observed.
    “Cal’s brilliant. Don’t forget he’s the one who designed the inventory control program that turned up the problem of stray equipment shipments.” Guinevere leaned closer to study the labels on the disks.
    “I didn’t know that. Damn it, Gwen, that’s the sort of thing you’re supposed to be reporting to me while you gobble down those expensive lunches you’re conning me out of.”
    She tilted her nose, mildly surprised. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you weren’t aware of it. Does it matter?”
    “At this point I don’t know what matters and what doesn’t. Kindly don’t leave out such details in the future.”
    “Are you always this short-tempered when you’re doing something illegal?”
    With obvious effort he ignored the question. Instead, he continued to flip through the labeled disks. “Here you go,” Zac finally murmured as he came to one that carried a hand-lettered label. “‘Elf.’ Think that’s it?”
    “Probably. Why don’t I just take it with me?