Fatal Exception Page 11

  Chapter 20

  You Kill Zombies Good

  PHINNAEUS WAS SITTING AT HOME on his night off, randomly surfing around the net, when a message popped up on his screen.

  Tiffany: Hey what's up?

  Phin: Nada much. You at work?

  Tiffany: Yeah, slow night.

  Phin: Sounds like fun.

  Tiffany: Speaking of fun, Justin and I are heading to Pleasure Island after work. You in?

  Phin: Sure, what time?

  Tiffany: 10

  Phin: Cool, meet you there.

  Pleasure Island was the adult equivalent of one of those kids' pizza places with the games, the costumed characters, and the mechanized song and dance numbers. While families were welcome at Pleasure Island during the day, it was the nighttime that brought the place to life. Phin wasn't quite sure what to expect. He'd only heard of the place and driven past it a few times. He had never actually gone inside. But he knew Tiffany would be there, and that was motivation enough. He rose from his creaky computer chair and dashed into a whirlwind of personal hygiene.

  * * *

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  PHIN ARRIVED AT PLEASURE ISLAND a little early — something he often did when going to a new place to allow himself time to get used to new surroundings.

  It was still well before 10 so there was no cover charge, but he still had to show his ID to the doorman. The after-hours was all about the grown-ups.

  The front half of the place looked like a standard sports-bar-slash-restaurant. It had a large bar area, crowded with twenty- and thirty-somethings and fully stocked with a rainbow of bottled libations, several pool tables (only half occupied), and a smattering of regular dining tables. From the back, Phin heard the sounds of an electric spectacle flowing forth, calling to him like the Pied Piper. He answered the call instinctively and walked down the long hall alongside the bar to reach the midway.

  To a child of the Nintendo Generation like Phinnaeus, the Midway looked like heaven on earth. It was about an acre of all sorts of arcade games, lined up edge to edge. Games with guns, games with boxing gloves, games with replica motorcycles, 3D virtual reality helmets, scale-model jet skis — and each game was flanked by a little table for setting down one's drink. In a stroke of pure genius, the designers of the Midway even placed “Call Waitress” lights on each game, so you never had to stop playing in order to get another drink.

  It was all a bit like a Las Vegas casino, except nobody here would get a free hotel room for playing too much, and there was never a chance of making back your money.

  Of course, like any good carnival, there was a wide array of prizes. In addition to the many video games, there was a vast array of conventional diversions — basketball free throws, Skee Ball, and pseudo-gambling machines — and all of these games rewarded their players with tickets. Win or lose, you always got a few tickets, and these could be traded in a kind of bazaar for anything from bubble gum to giant stuffed dogs to big screen television sets.

  While it may seem like a huge achievement to accumulate enough tickets for a CD player or a clock radio, if one were to stop and do the math, these little trinkets cost about five to ten times what they would outside the front doors of Pleasure Island.

  That, one could argue, is why the games have the “Call Waitress” lights, and why those cute little waitresses — all dressed alike in white collared shirts, black vests, bow ties, skirts, and ass-tightening high heels — were always more than happy to open a tab for you at the bar (with a major credit card). But you can't tip them with tickets.

  Phin wasn't going to be drawn in by the allure of some five-foot-tall teddy bears, though. Having scoped the place out, he headed straight for House of the Dead 2 — a guts and gore shooting game with sturdy plastic pistols tethered to the case.

  Blasting his way through the undead, Phin lost track of time and money. About three levels and six dollars in, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  It was Tiffany, looking as spunky and as hot as ever.

  “Sure — but don't take my kills. You stick to the right, I'll handle the left.”

  “Wow, you take this pretty seriously, don'tcha?” she asked as she swiped Phin's game card through the machine's reader slot.

  Phin fired off-screen to reload his pistol and then wasted three more zombies.

  “Lady, I'm all that stands between you and a worldwide zombie apocalypse.”

  Tiffany picked up her gun and effortlessly wiped out a screen full of monsters.

  “I think I can handle myself alright, thanks,” she said with a wink.

  Phin blushed. “Where's Justin?”

  “Oh, he couldn't make it — had to study for a mid-term next week.”

  “Must be nice,” Phin muttered as he emptied four rounds into the chest of a chainsaw-wielding ghoul, blasting chunks of simulated flesh in all directions.

  “What, you like tests or something? You are a little weird.” Tiffany finished off the monster with a single shot to the face, decapitating it at the jaw.

  “No, it's just that I've wanted to get back in school for a while. That's why I took the job at Storm instead of a good job — hoping it'll look good on my app for the Computer Science program at UT.”

  A knife-throwing reanimated midget popped up on the screen and hurled a blade before Phin could react, turning his side of the screen red.

  “Fuck!”

  “I've got that little shit,” Tiffany said as she unloaded six rounds.

  A counter on the screen indicated that Phin was out of credits.

  “Dammit.”

  Tiffany smiled and lowered her gun.

  “C'mon, let me buy you a drink.”

  “You going to get me all liquored up and take advantage of me?”

  “You could be so lucky.”

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  THREE HOURS (AND A HUNDRED dollars) later, Phinnaeus and Tiffany emerged from Pleasure Island with two slight buzzes and one giant stuffed panda bear.

  “You okay to drive?” Phin asked.

  “Yeah, I don't live far from here,” Tiffany said, folding her arms to protect against the December wind.

  “Cool. Where's your car?”

  “Way back there.” She motioned toward the far end of the parking lot.

  North Austin was a safe part of town (relatively speaking), but Phin wasn't going to take any chances, so he walked alongside Tiffany, swinging the panda bear by his big, overstuffed paw.

  When they arrived at the car, Phin held out the bear.

  “Here, I want you to take him.”

  “No way. You're the one with the mad Skee Ball skills. He's all yours.”

  “True, I am pretty talented, but I don't have room for another piece of furniture in my living room.”

  “Oh fine,” Tiffany conceded. “Put him in the back seat.”

  Phin opened the door and crammed the panda bear inside. When he stood back up and turned around, he found Tiffany standing just inches away. Even in the chilly air, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. He had to say something before the moment was lost.

  “You know,” he started, “you kill zombies good.”

  Tiffany grinned from ear to ear.

  “Thanks. You do too.”

  They inched closer together, and Phin's stomach tightened. Finally, the roller coaster crested the hill, and their two sets of lips met, releasing a fury of tension that had been building all night.

  After a half hour of lost time in the back seat of Tiffany's car, Phin looked up and noticed that the windows were completely fogged up.

  “Wow,” he said as he traced his finger along the cold, wet glass.

  Their skin — still clothed — was sticky with sweat and condensation.

  “Yeah, wow,” Tiffany concurred.

  “We should get home,” Phin said.

  “Yeah, and I have to work to
morrow. Otherwise . . . ”

  She planted a hand on Phin's crotch and kissed him hard. Phin mustered all his willpower to pull away and open the car door. He crawled out followed by a disheveled looking Tiffany.

  “Be safe,” he said. “I'll take a rain check.”

  Tiffany just winked as she got into the front seat and drove away.

  Phin sauntered back to his own car, exhausted and exhilarated.

  Chapter 21

  Your Mission, If You Choose to Accept It . . .

  PHIN AWOKE TO A POUNDING headache and a pounding on his front door.

  “Yeah yeah yeah, I'm up, I'm up,” he murmured to nobody in particular as he rolled out of bed and staggered to the door. He didn't bother putting on any clothes other than the boxers he'd slept in — anybody banging on his door at this ungodly time would just have to deal with seeing him mostly naked.

  Phin threw the door open. “Yeah?”

  A sour, serious looking gentleman in a suit and tie looked at him with obvious contempt.

  “Are you Phinnaeus Webb?”

  “Yeah . . . ”

  “Special Agent Frost, FBI. I'm going to need you to come with me. Get some clothes on.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  “No, but your cooperation will be very much appreciated.”

  “Can I at least ask what this is about?”

  “Not now.”

  Phin seemed to have no choice in the matter. On the one hand, he was afraid that those late nights cracking and exploring had finally caught up with him. But on the other, he was highly intrigued about what business the FBI had with him — a lowly tech support rep.

  He dashed around his bedroom, unable to find anything suitable for the occasion. What does one wear for a meeting with armed federal agents? He threw on a t-shirt and jeans and was out the door.

  “Follow me,” the sour-faced Agent Frost said, leading Phin down the stairs to a waiting sedan. He gestured to the back seat. “Get in.”

  “I thought you said I wasn't under arrest.”

  “You aren't - the front is full.”

  Sure enough, Phin saw that the front seat was crammed full of papers, file folders, photographs.

  “Fair enough. The back it is.”

  Phin climbed in. Agent Frost started up the car and the two drove off.

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  AFTER DRIVING FOR A FEW minutes, they arrived at their destination. Agent Frost guided the sedan into one of many empty parking spaces.

  “This is it? The WOW?” Phinnaeus was a bit confused. “What, do you want a crêpe before we go to headquarters?”

  The World of Waffles (usually just called the “WOW”) was the sort of place you went at 3 in the morning after some hard drinking to get some serious grub to stave off the inevitable hangover, or to get breakfast with the kids after church on Sunday morning (if one were into that sort of thing). It was not often the sort of place one spotted a federal agent and his semi-prisoner.

  “Just get out and come inside.”

  With the fear that he was about to be arrested all but completely assuaged, Phin hopped out of the car and followed the taciturn federal agent inside.

  They bypassed the hostess and headed straight for a booth in the back of the establishment, where another fellow was already sitting. He was older than the first agent, wore a grey wool suit, and drank his coffee as if he'd just escaped the Sahara and it was a glass of water.

  The silver-haired agent stood when Phin approached.

  “Phinnaeus Webb? I'm Special Agent Wagner. You've already met Special Agent Frost.”

  “I did — so do you want to tell me what's going on here?”

  The waitress showed up and handed the two new arrivals some menus.

  “What can I get you two to drink?”

  “Coffee, thanks.”

  “And for you?” She turned to Agent Frost.

  “Water.”

  “Alright, I'll be right back.”

  The waitress shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving the three men alone. Not many people tended to have breakfast at the WOW at 5 a.m. on a Wednesday, so they had the place pretty much all to themselves.

  “Now Phinnaeus — I believe you were just about to ask just what the hell a couple of federal agents are doing banging on your door before dawn and dragging you to a greasy spoon for coffee.” Agent Wagner seemed a bit nicer than Frost already.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “Well, first of all, we're not here for breakfast, but feel free to order something if you're hungry. We'll pick up the tab.”

  “How . . . generous of you?”

  “Let's get down to brass tacks here, Phinnaeus. We think there's something fishy about Elliot Storm.”

  “Yeah, there's a lot of that going around these days.”

  “I can't go into detail with you right now, but what I can say is this — we need your help to find out what's going on at Storm Computer Corporation.”

  “My help?”

  “To put it plainly, we need someone on the inside to gather information for us. Now, we don't want you to go breaking into anyone's office or stealing files or anything like that — we have our own people for that sort of thing. What we need is an insider's view of the happenings on the campus, especially where Mr. Storm is concerned.”

  The waitress showed up to drop off Phin's coffee and to refill Agent Wagner's.

  “Thanks, hun,” Wagner said with a smile.

  “Will you be ordering any food today?”

  “I can't eat this early, sorry.” Phin handed his menu to the waitress.

  “Me either,” said Agent Wagner. “Too much food too early interferes with my morning movement. When you get to be my age, you worry about that sort of thing.”

  “I'll take an egg white omelet with mushrooms, side of dry toast,” Agent Frost said. “No butter.”

  The waitress scrawled his request on an order pad. “I'll have this right out. Thanks guys!”

  Phin reached for the sugar and cream to start doctoring his coffee. He needed some caffeine to kick-start his brain to deal with this situation. “So, you just need me to gather information?”

  “Exactly. Originally, we wanted to get one of our undercover agents hired on to collect first-hand intelligence, but Storm has a hiring freeze in place. It seems they don't want to bring in anybody new for a while — so we have to ask someone who's already inside.”

  Phin downed a few more mouthfuls of coffee.

  “So, why me?”

  “Yes, that's usually the next question. We've been watching you for a while, actually.”

  “Okay, that's a little creepy.”

  “No no, not through your bedroom window or anything. We've been keeping tabs on a lot of Storm employees for a while now.”

  “Okay, but that doesn't answer my question.”

  Agent Wagner sighed. “Without going into all our methodology, here's how it breaks down. You're new to the company, so you probably don't have any loyalties to anyone in management. Your friends likely consist of just your peers, those performing the same job functions. You were quickly selected for special duties in your department, which means you are good at what you do.”

  “Come on now, you're making me blush.”

  “Plus there's the fact that you have the entire tech support department bugged with a keystroke logger, and you have seemingly untraceable access to the management VPN.”

  This time, Phin really did start to blush.

  “We're not looking to arrest you, Phinnaeus. The fact is that you have access to information we can't get. We're only asking you to help us with an ongoing investigation. Are you in? Will you help us out?”

  “I don't . . . ”

  The waitress appeared with Agent Frost's food.

  “I must remind you that lives could be at stake, including the lives of people you work with, possibly even people you care about.”

  “What?�
��

  “One of the things we're looking at is the disappearance of several Storm employees and contractors, including some from your department.”

  Phinnaeus immediately thought of Tiffany.

  “Okay, I'm in.”

  “Good.”

  Agent Wagner pulled out a black cellular telephone. “Use this to contact me. Speed dial 1. If I don't pick up, Agent Frost is on Speed Dial 2.”

  “Can I use this to make other calls?”

  “No — it's on a private network. And speaking of private, this should go without saying, but you can't mention a word of this to anyone. Not your co-workers, not your parents, and certainly not Elliot Storm.”

  “Why would I tell him? I've only met the guy once, and he seems to have it in for me already. Accused me of sexually harassing some stripper he has a crush on.”

  Agent Frost set down his fork and knife and whipped out a small notepad and pen.

  “What's her name?” Agent Frost always used the minimum number of syllables for maximum effect.

  “Sandy, I think. She works at the Meat Market. But it's okay. We already warned her the other day, Zook and I did.”

  “We should go,” said Agent Frost.

  “Good idea. We'll go find Sandy and see what she can tell us. In the meantime, just keep a lookout at work. Keep your ear to the ground — listen for anyone who suddenly quits, doesn't show up for work, anything like that.”

  “Will do.”

  The trio stood and walked outside, where they convened around Agent Frost's sedan.

  Phinnaeus, the coffee having finally kicked in, decided to ask a burning question.

  “So, do I get a gun?”

  “No,” both agents responded.

  Chapter 22

  The Graveyard Shift

  THE DAY AFTER HIS MEETING with the federal agents, Phinnaeus arrived at work 15 minutes late. In his mind, he had a legitimate excuse, but he couldn't exactly tell the truth — and even if he did, nobody would believe him, so he simply skated in the door and found the closest available workspace to log on and start taking calls.