After Meredyth and Lucas had discussed every detail of Randy's call and their debate wound to a close, Lucas began pacing the small hotel room like a nervous puma, and she complained, “Will you sit down; light somewhere.”
He turned in mid-stride, his eyes clear and malevolent, but the malevolence was not directed at her, she knew. “Maybe we'd better find Bullock and Price, put it to them. See their reaction, you know, face-to-face, man-to-man, all that.”
“Yeah, and maybe with a woman present, we just might get a read on 'em, you mean?” she replied with a smile. “It might prove interesting. Still, I'm having a hard time believing that murder could be committed by an electronic cult over the Internet. Talk about wired… wired for murder…”
“Every other crime in the country has gone high-tech, so why not murder?”
Lucas telephoned Sheriff Hindman, who put him in touch with Bullock and Price, who agreed to meet them for dinner to talk over mutual interests in the case. The FBI men were staying at the landmark hotel, Alex Johnson, in downtown Rapid City. Lucas got the sense the men were counting coup. Bullock didn't rub it in or even say it aloud, but he and Price had been expecting their call.
“We'll be there by seven.”
“Meet us in the restaurant. We'll dine together on Uncle Sam,” offered Bullock.
“Yeah, well, Uncle Sam does owe my people a few meals,” Lucas said, trying to keep it light, gaining a grunt of understanding from Bullock before the man hung up.
Lucas and Meredyth stepped into the beautifully refurbished, turn-of-the-century hotel exactly at seven. The decor was rustic, early western, so much so that Meredyth felt strange to be walking on the carpet. It looked handmade, something that ought to be hanging in a museum. The same applied to the American Indian designs and paintings adorning the walls. Antlers and moose heads and stuffed deer, cougar and other animals also stared down from on high. Meredyth expected to see Teddy Roosevelt step through the next doorway.
They located the FBI men in the restaurant off the lobby. Bullock and Price looked as stiff and formal as ever, but they seemed pleased that the Texas authorities had come groveling to them. There were handshakes all around, and after ordering drinks and a look over the menu, Lucas brought up the possibility that some nutcases had formed an Internet club through which members were controlled and selected and told to murder people on an FBI list of cultists or vampire worshippers.
Bullock laughed in Lucas's face.
Price's frown deepened his wrinkles. “Give us a break, Stonecoat.”
“I thought we were here to share information, gentlemen,” Meredyth instantly reacted. “Now, it's no secret you're here because of the list, the Vampire List, and the fact that people on that list are being murdered by self-appointed vampire stalkers and demon killers. Isn't that right?”
Bullock bit his tongue and finally released the air he had inhaled, instantly dropping his poker face. “How the hell did you get that information?”
“Are we on the same side or not, Agent Bullock? Are you guys onto some sort of weird X-Files kinda case here or not?” pressed Lucas.
“All right… all right, we deal. You tell us what you know, we'll level with you about our interest.”
Between them, Lucas and Meredyth filled in the blanks for the FBI men. Both Price and Bullock listened with rapt attention, amazed at the amount of information pulled together by the duo.
By now the waiters had delivered four sumptuous dinners, two of stuffed salmon, two roast buffalo plates, Lucas having talked Meredyth into trying the unusual. She was pleased with the sweet flavor and that it was not tough, as she'd imagined, or fatty or greasy.
“We've been trying to locate these cultists on the Internet,” said Price, “have a team of the best minds in computer land working on it day and night, but we're dealing with people who really know how to hide their tracks.”
Bullock quickly added, “They're not sloppy like you see with the porno freaks on the Internet. They close up holes as they go, plugging us out. They're cleverly disguised bastards, these people.”
“At the same time, they have access to… to anyone,” Price assured.
Bullock added, “Anyone with a public persona. Anyone with a birth certificate, a driver's license, car registration, voter's registration, if you license your pet, get a divorce, file for bankruptcy, inherit property, they know about you, and they can stalk you.”
“The average person on a PC could build a whopping good picture of your life and your financial transactions for just a little trouble,” commented Price.
“Hell, nowadays, a single stop at a data company like CDB Infotek, for a five or twenty subscription rate you can scan hundreds of thousands of public record databases- electronic versions of county, state and federal court files,” continued Bullock.
“Matter of fact, there's a private investigation firm in your own city of Houston, Intertect, that can do in one hour what ten years ago would've taken a week,” agreed Price. “Employers hire these guys to check on prospective employees. But then again, Intertect isn't too particular who they take on as clients.”
'They can tell if you've ever been charged with fraud, were ever sued, or had ever sued anyone else. A nationwide search can quickly turn up assets, hidden or otherwise, such as a second home, luxury car or boat,” added Bullock. Lucas understood completely, saying, “If you're in an auto accident or injured in some other way, a lawyer might want to check you out to know how deep your pockets are.”
“Even information supposedly not available to the public is floating around out there on you.” added Price. “Your bank account and credit card numbers, your brokerage records-”
“Social security recs and tax returns,” offered Bullock.
“It's all an impostor needs to check your balances.”
“Despite federal law that restricts access to those with a… a legitimate need to know,” began Bullock.
“Such as prospective creditors, insurers, or employers,” added Price.
Lucas groaned and rolled his eyes. “But all anyone has to say is that they intend using the information for a legitimate purpose, and they're in, right?”
“So anyone answering yes can get the files?” asked Meredyth.
Bullock confessed with a rueful smile, “That's how Dan Quayle's credit history wound up in Business Week in 1989, yeah.”
“People, strangers to you, nowadays can turn up anything on you-the fact your home has a pool, the number of vehicles you drive, your political party affiliation, what charities you donate to, the magazines you subscribe to,” Price further explained.
“Not like the FBI would consider such tactics,” grumbled Lucas.
“All right, true, touch6 as they say. We led the way in this kind of surveillance, but now it's out there. Anyone surfing the Internet can play FBI,” countered Bullock. “Look, I was a special agent in the division of the Secret Service that investigates electronic financial crimes for seven years, and I don't trust my account number in Internet providers' files.”
“Hell,” grunted Price, opening up wider now, “there's fifty-six thousand IRS employees alone who have access to the computer system where taxpayer records are stored. Thirteen hundred of them were investigated in 1994 for snooping violations in the confidential records of their neighbors, friends and celebrities.”
“Some altered files to generate higher tax refunds for their friends,” volunteered Bullock.
“All the gibberish you see on an e-mail map… it maps out the path the commands have gone through. A system administrator or hacker-like the one you obviously have working for you”-Price pointed a finger-”at any way station can read a copy of your message, so it's downright insane to send information naked over the Internet.”
“Price means unencrypted.”
“Downloads leave footprints in the computer system through which they pass, too,” added Price, a statement that made Meredyth and Lucas think of Randy Oglesby's safety. Still, Meredyth had told Lucas that Randy was taking extreme precautions, explaining that for his last “break-in” he'd used a PC at a Circuit City in a downtown Houston mall. 'Try and trace that,” she'd said to Lucas.
“Banks and financial institutions are now using encryption to protect transactions,” Bullock told them. “Encryption scrambles the data much like airwaves are scrambled on. pay TV, and for the same reason, to protect against voyeurs as info travels the Internet. If it's not encrypted, it's not taken seriously.”
“Once you're on the Internet, you're open to theft unless you've set up a fire wall,” Price explained.
“Fire wall?” asked Lucas.
Price frowned and said, “A security technique that isolates that part of the computer system accessible by modem.”
“Hell, I found out about this stuff early on, went home and removed the checking account numbers from the Quicken files on my home computer,” observed Bullock.
“Well, that's overkill, Tim,” Price argued.
“I don't think so.”
“Unless some hacker's got a specific reason to target you, your hard drive is probably not so tempting a target compared to large corporate and governmental databases.” Price looked into Meredyth's eyes and added, “I would not spend time worrying that someone's breaking into your PC through a phone line. It would take a lot of time, and there's not much upside.”
“Unless maybe the guy's a creep and is stalking her,” challenged Bullock.
“You miss the point, Tim. Hell, InfoBase in Conway, Arkansas, claims to have data on ninety-five percent of the U.S. households, all compiled from public records, credit bureaus, consumer questionnaires, telemarketing and mail order companies' files. The hacker or stalker or stalker-hacker doesn't need to tap into the lady's machine; he can do it through the third party and do it more safely.”
“Sounds like anybody can play Big Brother; sounds like Brave New World,” said Meredyth, a bit shaken.
“For sale: your estimated income, your home's market value, your available home equity, what merchandise you buy, donations you make, your marital status, occupation, and children's ages, your hobbies and interests. Now imagine a con man who is interested in your money.”
“Hobbies and interests?” She was dumbfounded.
“The information requested on those little cards you fill out called warranties and guarantees puts you on Info Bases's Chip head list.”
“A stranger can easily learn what you buy and what you read.”
“That is scary,” she agreed.
“The benefits of staying off modems and out of Nets,” replied Lucas. “Sometimes the old ways are better… or at least safer?”
Meredyth and Lucas conferred quickly and just as quickly agreed to share everything they knew about the series of killings they had been pursuing from their home base in Houston. They described the Cold Room files she had unearthed, the similarities in the string of deaths going back so many years, and the fact no one had to date put them together, and now this-the obviously hacked or stolen FBI list of self-proclaimed vampires and demon worshippers.
“What do you know about the Vampire List?” asked Meredyth of the FBI men.
“It was discovered that the list was tapped into, hacked into, but only recently. Fact is, the list hadn't been updated or kept in serious repair for ten, maybe twenty years. A lot of nonsense associated with the list.”
“Whataya mean, nonsense? If it's nonsense, then why's the Federal Bureau of Investigation interested?” asked Lucas.
“Well, it started with the Hoover Administration, and you know what kind of paranoia ran rampant in the agency then,” began Bullock, whose eyes followed people about the room as he spoke. “There have been a handful of professed vampires who have acted on their insatiable need for human blood; in fact, the first such case that was of notoriety involved an FBI manhunt for a guy in California who did in fact drain his victims of their blood and drink the stuff. Since then, there've been several others, including the celebrated case of Mad Matthew Matisak-who, by the way, was not on the Vampire List compiled by the FBI, because, in point of fact, there's really no way to track all the wackos out there.”
Price took the ball, continuing, “Anyway, that madman Hoover and others in the agency began keeping book on people who, for one reason or another, professed a liking for the vampire lifestyle. Needless to say, most of the list is made up from subscribers to Vampire Dreams, The Red Knight, The Blood of Lucy Wistera, and other such publications, along with vampire orders, cults and clubs.
There are more than you might expect, and many of the members are playacting at the masquerade, finding something appealing in the whole mythos, you see, but some embrace it as a way of life, a religion even, a kind of devil worship, and these are hard-core believers who sleep in coffins and go about only at night.”
“That doesn't fit Judge Mootry or-”
“Perhaps not recently, but he may've become disillusioned with his religion, as anyone might; he may've changed his lifestyle and beliefs as he aged,” suggested Price. “Else he hid it well…”
“He wasn't sleeping in a coffin,” said Lucas.
“Coffins are harder than they look, and no room to stretch,” added Bullock with a laugh. 'Tell me this: Any graveyard dirt found under the man's bed?”
“I didn't see any, but then, forensics had already come and gone.”
“Check it out.”
“Did he go about during the day?”
“He was a judge. Night court? Meredyth bit her lip. “Appellate court.”
“Liked the black robes?” Price facetiously asked. “Check into it. You'll find he kept the lights in his courtroom dimmed and kept no mirrors in his chambers or at his home, or so our information has it.”
“Eccentricity,” suggested Lucas.
“Night person?” asked Bullock. “Did he party late into the night?”
“Yes, he did, but he donated tons of money to charitable causes,” she countered.
“He had lots of money to give. Nothing in the book says a vampire can't be a philanthropist, too” suggested Bullock. “Look, we're not saying that we believe he was a practicing, kosher vampire, okay? We're saying some people could and may well have perceived him as such, especially since he was retained on that damned list, and if the list did fall into the wrong hands…”
“And perception is everything in this life, isn't it?” Price suddenly added. “By the time of his murder, the old man may well've been in the process of… of trying to buy his way back into the good graces of the Lord of Light. Who knows?”
“In fact, one of his last major donations was to some off-center religious order based in Houston, a very generous sum,” agreed Meredyth. “Maybe he was a changed man.”
“We all of us do things we later regret; who hasn't lied, cheated, stolen something from someone somewhere in a moment of temptation,” suggested Lucas. “And who hasn't championed a cause to later regret it?”
“The FBI first began tracking Mootry when he was a college student,” Price said, thoughtfully sipping his coffee now. “He had become fascinated with the dark side of world religions, the black arts, cults, cultism. Even his selection of classes mirrored this interest, and for a time, he planned to be an archaeologist, which would have more readily masked his vampiric tendencies, I think; then something turned him around, and he began to see the beauty of the U.S. legal system, and he believed he could make a difference there. At least that's been our thinking, right, Bullock?”
“Of course, a lot of people at that age are confused and seeking some touchstone of identity,” added Bullock. “Hell, I know I was.”
“And Palmer?”
“Much the same, only in an Ivy League setting.
All it took to get on the list was to dabble and tell others you were a practicing vampire and then make the motions. That early in the game, anyone professing such tendencies, the FBI took seriously and began to watch closely and in many cases to film. It made sense to the behavioral science division to keep some sort of tabs on these… freaks.”
“You made film?” Lucas should not have been surprised. “Like you did with so many American Indian activists?”
“We did, or rather, they did. It was before Price and I were in the agency.”
Meredyth, amazed, asked, “Is this film in your archives?”
“It is, I suppose, unless someone in a position of authority has seen fit to destroy it. Meantime, people on the list are suddenly being killed off, so we were alerted. The keepers of the list and the film have all long since retired, the files pretty well set aside, much like your Cold Room files, except these were electronically set aside.”
“And someone, knowing about them, hacked into them?” asked Lucas. Bullock reluctantly nodded. 'Twice, now. Once very recently, in fact.”
Lucas and Meredyth exchanged a quick glance, both knowing Bullock referred to Randy Oglesby. “But then, you know that, don't you, Dr. Sanger?” asked Bullock.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“This break-in originated in Houston, Texas.”
“Really?”
“From a certain precinct house,” continued Bullock. “In fact, from your office, Dr. Sanger.”
She knew this to be a lie, that Randy had not used the office computer to obtain the list. “Someone broke into my office some time back,” she offered, “Lucas, you remember when it occurred.”
Lucas nodded assertedly. “It must be related.”
Price added, “When Mad Matisak came into prominence, there was some interest, but no one really wanted to be associated with the Vampire Files, as they were called. Then, as Tim said, people started getting bumped off, and the FBI's main concern was that the victims were on a list created by the FBI. If it got out… well, what with Waco, the Ruby Ridge thing, and all the other garbage leveled at the FBI of late… well, you can imagine how concerned our superiors are.” Price twirled a swizzle stick between his decidedly thick fingers.
The clatter of dishware in the hotel dining room grew with their silent response.
“One more thing we found that almost all, but not quite all, of the people on the list had in common,” added Bullock.
“What's that?”
“They were all into computers, modems, using the Net, and as young people they all played computer games.”
“Games? Like Doom?”
“Doom, Cutthroat, the darker the better.”
“Helsinger's Pit,” Meredyth muttered. 'That, too, and don't think for a moment we haven't seen the parallels to these murders. We just didn't know until your input how far back the killings went.”
'Then whoever's doing this, they're ostensibly doing it for the same object as the game?” asked Lucas. “To rid the world of devil worshippers?”
“Particularly devil worshippers with money, obviously,” added Meredyth. Bullock gave a shrug, saying, “Root of all evil, right, Dr. Sanger?”
“And the killers have become their own cult,” she countered. “Thanks to the luxury and efficiency of the computer and Internet,” added Price.
“Every computer has the potential of becoming a New Age pulpit,” finished Lucas. Isn 't that what Randy Oglesby said? he thought.
“So, what's your next move, Stonecoat, Dr. Sanger?” asked Bullock.
“I'm not sure. Return to Texas, start looking for tracks there, maybe computer tracks?” she offered noncommittally.
“Sounds a logical step, no pun intended.” Bullock stood, and the others followed suit.
Price said, “Well, good night and happy hunting. We do hope you two will keep us informed.”
“And vice versa,” replied Meredyth.
“Of course, of course…”
They all parted at the dinner table, each of them knowing it was a game of who got the answers first. Lucas shook hands with the government men, and Meredyth smiled, and all was congenial. Lucas and Meredyth were stopped, however, when Tim Bullock said, “And by the way, in case you hadn't heard, your friend Covey?”
“Covey?” asked Meredyth.
“John Covey.”
“Jack,” added Price.
“What about him?” asked Lucas.
“He's dead.”
“Dead? How?”
Meredyth's face fell.
“Usual prison whodunit. Still under investigation.”
“Damn,” muttered Lucas, taking Meredyth by the arm.
“If we're so transparent to the FBI,” she whispered to him, “what must we be to the killers?”
Bullock, hearing this, also whispered for their ears, saying, “Have you considered the distinct possibility that the Shirley killings were simply to get you out of Houston?”
Lucas stared at Bullock, incredulous. “What? That's just crazy.”
“You two got Covey killed. We never went near him.”
Meredyth gritted her teeth. “You can't believe that these people would just randomly select two innocent people for execution for the sole purpose of… of…”
“Of keeping their dirty operations secret? Yes, we can believe that.” Price's voice was sympathetic.
Meredyth was sickened by the thought that the Shirleys had possibly had nothing whatever to do with this.
“Neither of the Shirleys was ever on the Vampire List,” added Bullock.
“What are we to conclude from that?” asked Price. 'That you'd best watch your backs here, because the murdered couple were setups, dummies, just to lure you two here for a possible ambush?”
Lucas put his arm protectively around Meredyth and walked her out to the valet stand, where they picked up their rental and headed for the Prairie Wind. It was near midnight.
“Pretty damned cooperative for the feds, wouldn't you say?” he asked her as they drove off.
“I wouldn't know. I've never worked with the feds before. Have you?”
“On occasion. They're typically tight-lipped, unless… unless they need something from you. Then they're willing to bargain.”
'Then I'd say we came away with more than they did. Randy tried to tell us about the killing games on computer, the cyberspace conspiracy, the Vampire List, but we weren't buying it. Now this.”
“Don't get any false ideas from those clowns back there, Meredyth. We didn't cause Covey's death or the deaths of the Shirleys.”
“But suppose it's true? That we were lured here for a purpose?”
“Then we'd better tread lightly.”
She replied coldly, her eyes like broken glass, “We got the order to be here from Captain Lawrence.”
“You can't seriously suspect that Lawrence would be a party to such callous murder?”
“Lately… I don't know what to believe or who to trust. Do you?”
“Well, darling, that goes double for our FBI friends as well. I'd like to think we had friends in high places, but I'm not so sure about those two chumps.”
“I'm beginning to feel that creeping paranoia you always associate with psychosis,” she replied.
“Is that feeling anything like being inside a rattle and all the beans are popping and swapping noise, until you don't know which one to listen to?”
She nodded. “That's it. That's the feeling…”