Daemon

screen – commands entered at blinding speed. The harddrives labored. Dialogs came up showing file transfers. There was no way a person could work this fast. He tried the server’s enclosure door. Locked. He couldn’t shut the server down if he wanted to.
    Ross logged back into the billing application using the sysadmin logon he had found in the source code. He navigated to his customer record. This time all the fields were unlocked for editing. There wasn’t a delete button, so he rapidly filled the billing record with false information, replacing his own name with ‘Matthew Sobol’ – along with a phantom address, a random phone number, and all 9’s for a credit card number. He was about to click submit when he heard footsteps running on the tile floor of the lobby behind him.
    ‘Hands in the air!’ The shout echoed in the lobby.
    Ross turned to see two Woodland Hills police officers aiming Berettas at him from beyond the front desk. They squinted over their sights, with a two-hand clasp.
    Ross tapped the SUBMIT button, then raised his hands. ‘It’s all right. I’m working on the Daemon case with officer Pete Sebeck of the Thousand Oaks police department.’
    ‘Stop talking!’ One of the officers motioned to the coun-tertop. ‘Both hands, palms down on the counter!’
    In the back office the kid stared at the computer screen. A DOS window was up, displaying a customer record:
    Room 1318 – No Name (999) 999-9999
    CC#9999-9999-9999-9999
    Then the server crashed.

Chapter 23:// Transformation
    Sebeck escorted Ross out the front door of the Woodland Hills police station. Ross rubbed one wrist. ‘Do they always cuff people that tightly?’
    ‘Only the troublemakers.’ Sebeck’s new police cruiser was parked at the curb, and he pointed Ross to it.
    ‘I like the color better.’
    ‘Just get in the car.’
    Ross sniffed the morning air. ‘It’s good to breathe free again. I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.’
    ‘I needed to smooth things over with the DA. The Daemon trashed the hotel’s reservation system.’
    ‘That’s not
my
fault. They should have applied security patches.’
    ‘Jon, I talked the prosecutor out of bringing criminal charges, but I’m getting the distinct impression we’re chasing our tails. Sobol’s always three steps ahead of us.’
    ‘Are you kidding? We made great progress last night.’
    Sebeck gave him a look. ‘I got killed, and you got arrested. How is that great progress?’
    ‘Well, if you’re gonna look on the gloomy side—’
    ‘Just get in the car.’
    ‘What’s with you?’
    ‘I got an earful this morning over this little stunt. I’ve got NSA agents moving into my house. My son’s not speaking to me. My wife
is
speaking to me, and I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet. Other than that, everything’s just great.’
    ‘Pete, we need to reconnect with the Daemon as soon as possible.’
    ‘We’re just stumbling around blind.’ Sebeck got into the car.
    Ross thought for a moment. ‘I know a good coffee place near here.’
    ‘That’s a start.’
    Calabasas was an upscale bedroom community not far from Woodland Hills. It was part of the circulatory system of L.A. and, like most towns, straddled an artery of freeway.
    Ross guided Sebeck to a new shopping plaza – a riot of pastel stucco, imitation fieldstone, and palm trees – that more resembled a Tim Burton film set than a retail center. The sprawling parking lot was clogged with tiny
au pair
cars and the monstrous SUVs of stay-at-home moms.
    Sebeck gazed at the scene from an outdoor faux-French café. Beyond a nearby railing stood a burbling water feature replete with ducks, as though this wasn’t a desert but a mill pond in the south of France. If someone cut the pumps, Sebeck figured the ducks would be dead inside of six hours. He tossed a piece of croissant to them and sipped his AA Kenya coffee.
    Across the table Ross sipped a triple latte. The cup was something straight out of
Alice in Wonderland
. Sebeck frowned. ‘What the hell was that thing that attacked us last night? And how did it know my name?’
    Ross put his latte down on a freakishly large saucer. ‘I’m not surprised it knew your name, but I am surprised it spoke your name – particularly since I didn’t hear it.’
    ‘What do you mean you didn’t hear it? It said my name in a huge booming voice.’
    ‘Yes, but I think the file only played for you.’
    ‘What file?’
    ‘The sound file. Someone was