The Blue Nowhere

also jumped from the hospital to an outside computer. It recognized Stanford-Packard as a trusted system so he waltzed right through the firewalls and seized root there too.”
    “What’s the other system?” Bishop asked.
    “Northern California University in Sunnyvale.” Gillette looked up. “He got files on security procedures and personnel information on every security guard who works for the school.” The hacker sighed. “But we’re going to have trouble finding the next victim. He downloaded the names and personal files of twenty-eight hundred students.”
    S omeone was following him . . .
    Who was it?
    Phate looked in his rearview mirror at the cars behind him on the 280 freeway as he fled from CCU headquarters. He was badly shaken that Valleyman had outmaneuvered him again and was desperate to get home.
    He was already thinking of his next attack—on Northern California University. It was less challenging than some targets he might’ve picked but the security at the dorms was high and the school had a computer system that the chancellor of the school had once declared in an interview was hacker-proof. One of the more interesting features of this system was that it controlled the state-of-the-art fire alarm and sprinkler systems throughout the twenty-five dorms that provided the bulk of student housing.
    An easy hack, not as challenging as either the Lara Gibson or St. Francis one. But at the moment Phate needed a victory. He was losing this level of the game and that was shaking his confidence.
    And fueling his paranoia. . . . Another glance in the rearview mirror.
    Yes, someone was there! Two men in the front seat, staring at him.
    Eyes back to the road, then he looked again.
    But the car he’d seen—or thought he’d seen—was just a shadow or reflection.
    No, wait! It was back. . . . But now it was being driven by a woman alone.
    When he looked a third time there was no driver at all. My God, it was a creature of some sort!
    A ghost.
    A demon .
    Yes, no . . .
    You were right, Valleyman: When computers are the only life that sustains you, when they’re the only totems that ward off the deadly curse of boredom, then sooner or later the borderline between the two dimensions vanishes and characters from the Blue Nowhere begin to appear in the Real World.
    Sometimes those characters are your friends.
    And sometimes not.
    Sometimes you see them driving behind you, sometimes you see their shadows in alleyways you’re approaching, you see them hiding in your garage, your bedroom, your closet. You see them in a stranger’s gaze.
    You see them in the reflection of your monitor as you sit in front of your machine at the witching hour.
    Sometimes they’re just your imagination.
    Another glance in the rearview mirror.
    But sometimes, of course, they really are there.
    B ishop pushed END on his cell phone.
    “The dorms on the Northern California U campus have typical university security, which means it’s pretty easy to get through.”
    “I thought he wanted challenges,” Mott said.
    Gillette said, “I’d guess he’s going for an easy kill this time. He’s probably pissed off we’ve gotten so close to him the last few times and wants blood.”
    Nolan added, “This might also be another diversion.”
    Gillette agreed that that was a possibility.
    Bishop said, “I told the chancellor they should cancel classes andsend everybody home. But he won’t—the students start finals in two weeks. So we’ll have to blanket the campus with troopers and county police. But that’ll just mean more strangers on campus—and more of a chance for Phate to social engineer his way into a dorm.”
    “What do we do?” Mott asked.
    Bishop said, “Some more old-fashioned police work.” He picked up Phate’s CD player. The detective opened it up. Inside was a recording of a play—a performance of Othello. He turned the machine over and jotted down the serial number. “Maybe Phate bought it in the area. I’ll call the company and see where this unit was shipped to.”
    Bishop started making phone calls to the Akisha Electronic Products Company’s various sales and distribution centers around the country. He was transferred and put on hold for an interminable period of time and was having trouble getting through to someone who could—or was willing to—help.
    As the detective argued with someone on the other end of the line Wyatt Gillette spun around in a swivel chair to a nearby computer