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"What computers?"
"The ones Sam sent over a few weeks ago. Part of a new project or something. He was worried about
security."
Susannah had no idea what Angela was talking about. Why would Sam be storing SysVal equipment in a
garage? She reassured Angela that she would take care of it. They chatted for a few more minutes.
Susannah hung up, then began punching in the number of SysVal's switchboard.
Her finger stalled before she completed the call. Something wasn't right.
"Paige, I have to run out for a while. It can't be any fun for you staying alone at Falcon Hill, and there's a
perfectly good extra bedroom here. Why don't you pack a suitcase and move in with me for a few
weeks?"
"You just want a free housekeeper," Paige grumbled. But Susannah could see that she was pleased with
the invitation. By the time she left for Angela's, Paige had started making out a grocery list.
Angela let Susannah into the garage and left to meet a friend in the city. The garage smelled damp from
the broken water pipe, but still familiar. A rush of nostalgia came over her as she remembered the hope
and excitement of those early days. This part of the garage was now used only for storage. Boxes of
beauty supplies took up the shelves that had once held those first SysVal computer boards. The
abandoned burn-in box housed crimped rolls of old hairstyle posters. Her eyes swept from the burn-in
box to the dusty workbench and then to the wall that divided the beauty shop from the rest of the garage.
Two rows of cartons marked with the Blaze logo had been stacked there. She carefully counted them.
There were thirteen.
Flipping on all the lights so that she could see better, she stepped through a shallow puddle of water and
made her way over to the boxes. The flaps weren't sealed. Pulling them back, she saw a silver-gray
computer inside. It wasn't packed in molded Styrofoam like a new machine, but had been stored
unprotected. With some effort she wrested it from the carton and set it on the floor. Although she could
see that it had been used, she didn't have a list of serial numbers, and she had no way of knowing for
certain if it was one of the thirteen test models or not.
Pushing up the sleeves of her sweater, she opened the next carton and continued to unpack the machines.
Perspiration formed between her breasts and tendrils of hair stuck to her damp cheeks. She was
breathing heavily by the time she maneuvered the eleventh computer from its box.
Her eyes swept over the case and then stopped as she found what she had been looking for a brightly
colored sticker mounted crookedly on the side of the metal housing. In hot pink letters it announced boss
lady. One of her assistants had put the sticker on the machine as a joke. This was her missing computer.
She called Yank from the telephone in the beauty salon. He was awake but vague. She repeated her
instructions twice, hoping he would follow them. Then she sat down in the quiet garage along with the
ghosts of her past and waited.
He arrived more quickly than she had expected. Without asking any questions, he set four of the
computers on the workbench, including Susannah's old machine, and turned them on. Two of the
machines were completely dead, and their screens remained dark. Two of them, including her computer,
responded normally.
He tilted one of the nonfunctioning machines onto its side and unscrewed the case. "Somebody's been
here first," he said. "The board is missing."
Susannah peered inside and saw that the printed circuit board that held many of the computer's
components had been removed.
Yank moved the two machines that were still working over to the old burn-in box and left them running.
Then he turned his attention to the computers on the floor. "Let's see what we've got here. One by one."
By the time they were finished, they discovered six dead machines and seven that still worked. Two of
the dead machines still contained their circuit boards. Yank removed them and began testing them.
She pulled up one of the old metal stools and watched him, taking care not to disturb his concentration,
even though she itched to question him. Eventually her back began to ache. Slipping off the stool, she
went into the Pretty Please Salon, where she made a pot of coffee.
She was walking back into the garage with two steaming mugs in her hand when a banging noise erupted
from one of the working computers that had been plugged into the burn-in box. Startled, she moved
closer, only to realize that the awful noise was coming from her old machine. It sounded as if the disk
drive head was slamming back and forth. Coffee splashed over the side of the mug and spilled on the
back of her hand as the noise grew worse. Instead of behaving like a sweetly engineered piece of
high-tech equipment, her beautiful little Blaze was banging away like an old Model T.
Abruptly, the machine grew quiet and the screen went dark. A tiny wisp of smoke curled from the case.
"Interesting," Yank murmured, with typical understatement.
"Interesting? My God, Yank, what happened?"
"It died," he said.
She wanted to scream at him to be more specific, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.
He pulled her old machine from the burn-in box and carried it to the workbench. As he tilted it onto its
side, he said, "Why don't you go on? This is going to take a while."
She hesitated, then decided she would go crazy just standing around watching Yank and waiting for him
to say something. When Yank knew what was wrong, he would tell her. Until then, not even the threat of
torture could pull an opinion from him.
She picked up her purse. "Work on this by yourself, Yank. When you find out what's happening, report
to me directly. Don't talk to Sam. And don't talk to Mitch, either." She felt guilty for cutting Mitch out,
but she wanted a little time to absorb the facts first before she told him what was happening.
He studied her closely, but didn't comment.
She had an appointment with her attorney that afternoon to discuss the divorce. Paige went with her, and
afterward they did some shopping together. Although Susannah enjoyed her time with her sister, her mind
was back in the Gamble garage trying to sift through what she had seen.
Only one moment of tension marred their afternoon together. As they were driving back to the town
house, Susannah, in an attempt to encourage her sister to look for organizations where she could be
useful, mentioned some of the local charities SysVal had involved itself with over the past few years.
Perhaps it was because she was so worried about what she had discovered in the garage that she didn't
guard her tongue carefully enough.
"I don't know whether or not you're aware of it, Paige, but ever since Father died, FBT has been doing a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]