Free Memories End by James Luceno Page B

Cyrus’ enemies,” Marz said. “The ones who kidnapped him.”
    Strange glanced at Marz. “A very astute conclusion. But Cyrus could be mistaken about Scaum. Those who imprisoned Cyrus could have been foes of Peerless Engineering rather than personal foes of Cyrus. You have to remember that Peerless didn't achieve its present status without making a lot ofenemies along the way.” He shook his head in anger. “I can tell you there was no shortage of people who resented Peerless Engineering. Cyrus's kidnapping could have been prompted by revenge.”
    “Wow,” Marz said. “It's all starting to make sense.”
    Dismayed by the fact that his brother appeared to be swallowing Strange's bizarre theories lock, stock, and barrel, Tech motioned for a time-out. “None of it makes
any
sense. The whole idea is crazy. First of all,
you
were one of Peerless's chief enemies, weren't you?”
    Strange steepled his long fingers and bounced them against his lower lip in thought. “I won't deny it,” he said at last. “But I certainly would remember if I had kidnapped Cyrus.”
    “Okay, fine,” Tech said. “What makes you think Skander Bulkroad would let someone get away with kidnapping his son? Even if somebody did kidnap Cyrus, why hasn't Bulkroad told the FBI by now if it's been, like, ten years!”
    “Perhaps Skander Bulkroad was warned to keep quiet about Cyrus’ disappearance or risk greater harm to his son—even death.”
    Strange looked at Marz. “How did Subterfuge coax Cyrus’ gremlin out of hiding?”
    Marz shrugged. “It just did.”
    Strange nodded and stood up, his head nearly grazing the water-stained acoustic-tile ceiling. “Boys, there's only one thing to do.”
    Tech was afraid to ask what that might be.
    “We need to pay a visit to the place where you bought Subterfuge. Learning who wrote the program may yield a clue as to Cyrus’ current hiding place.”
    “Right!” Marz beamed in enthusiasm and rubbed his hands together.
    “And while we're at it, we should pick up the soft we'll need for our run.”
    “Run?” Tech asked. “
We?
”
    “Well, of course, ‘we,’ “Strange said matter-of-factly. “I've been out of the game for a long time, Tech. More important, I've never been especially fond of flying in Skander Bulkroad's Network. But with you at my side and your brother at the controls—why, we're practically assured of success.”
    Tech continued to gape at him as if Strange were a character from a role-playing game intent on misleading him. “You don't even know anything about us. You haven't even seen us handle a game deck, let alone a cybercraft.”
    Deep furrows formed on Strange's brow. “You described yourselves as flyers.”
    “Well, yeah, we are,” Tech stammered. “And righteous ones… But Felix doesn't want us flying from the office cybersystem, and our system isn't anywhere near the speed of Felix's.”
    Strange wasn't the least bit swayed. “Once we've explained everything to Felix, I'm sure he'll understand.”
    “No way,” Marz said.
    Strange frowned. “Then we may be forced to fly without his express permission.”
    Tech shook his head back and forth. “Network Security slapped an access lock on the system. The lock's going to kick in this afternoon unless Felixpays the fines he owes—which he can't do. Even if he does come up with the money somehow, most of our infiltration software got fried when the system took an amplified hit from the EPA trace.”
    Strange stroked his beard. “We can disable the access lock. As for the software, you needn't worry about that.” He pointed to a pair of fifteen-year-old interface helmets outfitted with equally archaic data goggles. “Slip into those for a moment.”
    Tech and Marshall snugged the awkward helmets down over their foreheads and adjusted the fit of the data goggles, which had lenses smudged with fingerprints. Tech nudged his brother in the ribs and whispered, “Ancient hardware. Can you believe this