The Face

with. I don’t want it for a gun, see, it’ll just be like a sacred object to [440] me. Part of my private memorial wall to Janelle, on the shelves where I keep all her films.”
        “All right,” Corky said, “It’s yours when I’ve done him.”
        “You’re a champ, Cork.” Indicating the computer and the data on it, the keeper of Janelle’s flame said, “This was a nut-buster job.”
        As a hacker of exceptional achievement, Mick customarily implied or boldly stated that for him, self-named Ultimate Master of Digital Data and Ruler of the Virtual Universe, all came as easily as bees to a flower; therefore, this admission that the Manheim job had taxed his talents must mean that it had been a formidable task, indeed.
        “At precisely eight-thirty this evening,” Mick continued, “the telephone company’s computer will shut down all twenty-four of the lines serving the Manheim estate.”
        “Won’t that alert Paladin Patrol, the off-site security company? One dedicated line maintains a twenty-four-hour link between Paladin and the estate, for alarm transmissions.”
        “Yeah. If the line goes dead, Paladin treats the interruption in service the same as an alarm signal. But they won’t know a thing.”
        “It’s an armed-response company,” Corky worried. “Their guards aren’t Barney Fifes with pepper spray. They respond fast, with guns.”
        “Part of the package I’ve worked up for you is a breach of the Paladin computer immediately before the Manheim phones go down. It pulls the plug on their whole system.”
        “They’ll have redundancy.”
        “I know their redundancy like I know my own crotch,” Mick said with impatience. “I’m pulling the plug on the redundancy, too.”
        “Impressive.”
        “You won’t have to worry about the off-site security company. But what about the private guards on the estate, Manheim’s own boys?”
        “Two on the evening shift,” Corky said. “I know their routine. I’ve got that covered. What about cell phones?”
        “That’s part of the package you’re buying from me. I checked out [441] the information you got from Ned Hokenberry, and Manheim still uses the same cell-service provider as before Hokenberry was fired.”
        Corky said, “Two cellular units are used by the on-duty guards. A third goes everywhere with the security chief, Ethan Truman.”
        Mick nodded. “They’ll be shut down at eight-thirty along with the hard-wired phones. The couple that runs the estate also receive cell phones as part of their job-”
        “The McBees.”
        “Yeah,” Mick said. “And Hachette, the chef, and also William Yorn…”
        “The groundskeeper. None of them will be there tonight,” Corky noted. “It’s just Truman and the kid.”
        “You don’t want to take any chances, do you, that somebody might decide to work late or maybe come back early from vacation? If I shut them all down, there’s no chance anyone on that estate can dial nine-one-one. At the same time, service will be discontinued to those members of the staff who carry personal pagers.”
        Previously they had talked about the Internet and ways in which it could be used to issue a call for help.
        Anticipating Corky, Mick said, “Cable-direct Internet access from the Manheim estate will also be terminated at eight-thirty.”
        “And the on-duty guards won’t know any of this has happened?”
        “Not unless they try to use a phone or go on the Internet.”
        “There won’t be a system-interrupt warning on their computers?”
        “Got that covered. But like I warned you, I can’t shut down the cameras, the perimeter heat sensors, or the motion detectors in the house itself. If I did any of that, they’d see their system going blind, and they’d know something was up.”
        Corky shrugged. “When I get in the house, I want the motion detectors operative, anyway. I might need them. As for the cameras and the perimeter heat sensors, Trotter will get me past all that.”
        “And then you’ll kill him,” Mick said.
        “Not right then. Later. So what do you have left to do?”
        [442] Raising his right hand high in ceremonial fashion, Mick said, “ Just this.” Slowly, with a goofy sense of drama, he brought his index finger straight down to the keyboard and tapped ENTER.
        The data on the computer vanished. The screen clicked to a soft, unblemished field of