Dogs have not been able to speak since that night. But it escaped the Haiavaha and brought fire to the village."

"And ever after Man has had fire. I can guess that much. But if this is the Haiavaha, what does it want from us?"

Maibang shrugged. "Possibly it is still angry." Chester propped himself on his elbows, thinking. "What about the way it made the fire burn backward?"

"Our legends do not speak of that at all."

"But in that case..." A smile spread like a slow dawn over Chester's long face. "It's still there to be stolen. Right. You know, it's a pity that dog couldn't talk when it got back to the village. You'd've stolen it by now."

Maibang was grinning too. "I believe we would at that." The Lore Master seemed to be vastly pleased. "Well, it's a damn good thing that I put a tracer on the Haiavaha. Tomorrow we'll hunt that thing down." He stood, stretching. "Now, people, let's pitch camp. Uncle Lopez should be providing us with dinner any time now. I think we've earned ourselves a little party. What say?"

A ragged cheer broke out, and the Gamers fell to unpacking. Griffin spread and adjusted his sleeping bag, let the mattress inflate, and flopped.

A moment later he was pulling himself to his feet. Business. He looked around; nobody was paying attention to him. He sauntered towards the trees. Acacia glanced up and saw him, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

"Hey there, big fella. If you want to wait a minute, you can have some company."

"Modesty forbids, my dear. My kidneys are floating, and an au­dience freezes the faucet." She laughed, and nodded, spreading out her sleeping bag. Next to his. Alex thought warm thoughts.

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE ELECTRIC PIZZA

MYSTERY

As soon as he was into the woods he fished out his wallet and flipped it on. "Switchboard," a reedy voice called.

"Patch me to security. Bobbick. This is Griffin." Alex put his back to a tree and tried to think. Somehow it was difficult to forget the Fore and the Haiavaha and concentrate on the reality outside Gaming Area ‘A'.

Bobbick's voice was the link he needed. "Hi, chief. I know you've been busy. That's some pretty rough play."

"I'm not sure it's play at all. Listen, what have you got for me?"

Bobbick didn't answer for a second, and Griffin thumped the communicator gently. "You there, Marty?"

"I'm here all right. I just don't like having to say this. Oh, man. Gruff, we've definitely got murder on our hands."

"Christ," Alex muttered. He sank his weight back into the tree and waited.

"Novotney confirmed it. We knew that we had death by suffocation, but there was a possibility that Rice had a cold that blocked his nasal passages. You know how he was always sniffling."

"Yeah."

"Well, there just wasn't enough mucus to block the passages."

"I think I can guess the rest. Someone knocked him out, tied him up, gagged him and held his nose shut until he died." He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, danunit. I knew there was something I was trying to remember."

"What's that?"

"Last night. That damn dream. ‘A fine, upright boy.' ‘He wouldn't have taken this sitting down.' Oh good Christ, of course it was murder."

Bobbick sounded confused. "Ah... I'm not sure I follow you, chief..."

"Listen. Rice's wrists were abraded. We know he was strug­gling when he died. How the hell did he end up in a sitting posi­tion?"

"What?"

"Sitting. Sitting, dammit. He was sitting up. If he had been thrashing around, he should have ended up lying on his side, or on his back, or anything. Do you realize how unlikely it is for him to just accidentally end up in a sitting position?"

Bobbick inhaled sharply. "I see what you mean." Griffin brooded. "I'm going to need to think on this some more. What else do you have for me?"

"Good news, bad news, and worse news. First, we've es­tablished the whereabouts of the ‘A' workers the night Rice was killed, and all of them are clean. Likewise for Maibang. Everyone who took the voice stress test passed with flying colors, but-"

"Alan Leigh?"

"He's clean. I thought you'd cleared him."

"I had some second thoughts. But if he passed the voice stress what else?"

"This Orville Bowan-Bowan the Black is his listing-anyway, he's refused the lie detector. When I told him we'd have to abort the Game, he laughed and said it would serve Henderson right."

"Yeah. I guess that doesn't surprise me. Forget him, he's clean."

"Great!"

"So are Dark Star and S. J. Waters."

"Sounds like you're making progress. Who's left?" Griffin had to count on mental fingers. "Offie Norliss, his lady Gwen. Not prime suspects, but not in the clear, either. Ah, Tony McWhirter and Acacia Garcia." He didn't like having to say that, but it was true. Masculine vanity aside, why was she sticking so close to the Griffin? "And Mary-Martha."

"Mary-Martha Corbett?"

"That's the one. I'm not sure about her. She's been in Gaming A before. Pulling a little bit of industrial spying off might just amuse her. And that about does it."

"Okay, one more thing," Bobbick said. "Mifficent did some back checking. She was curious about Rice's college life. She got hold of the Sulphur University newspapers for his residency. Guess what?"

"What?"

"The face on the statue. We found it. It belonged to one Sonja Prentice, a co-ed who went to school with him. Griff, she commit­ted suicide just two months before Rice left college. Now, what was her statue doing in Rice's apartment?"

Alex mulled it. It wouldn't be that startling a coincidence. "No opinion. I wish we could ask Rice."

Griffin returned to the campground to find that Kibugonai had ferried in a case of cold beer, and Maibang was lugging a crate into the inner circle. When they levered it open, Gainers broke into unabashed applause.

There were loaves of hot garlic bread and six tremendous wheels of pizza with varied toppings.

Owen Braddon smacked his lips. "You know, there's one thing about Lopez. He may fry you or drown you, but he'll never let you starve."

A line formed, and disintegrated in laughing wrestlers, and re­formed.

"There had better be one in there without anchovies," the Lore Master laughed, "or I'm gonna lodge a complaint." He seemed cheerful enough, considering the beating he had taken today. Was he that sure of tomorrow's target? or was it just good politics?

Griffin joined the line. He tried to find the spot inside him that hadn't been shaken by Bobbick's news. The smile he wore was

strictly off the rack, and it wouldn't hold long against Acacia's prying.

He took a lion's portion of pizza and snagged two beers. Acacia joined him at his bedroll and leaned back, propping her plate between knees and stomach. She munched noisily, totally una­shamed.

Alex managed to talk around a mouthful of pizza. "I'm not sure, but I think that this is my favorite part of this whole nutty business." His hunger had teeth in it, and the cold brew tasted un­believably good. Acacia mumbled something that sounded like agreement, and that was good enough for him. He watched Margie and S.J. finish setting up the campfire, and let the warmth sink into his bones. He was happy. He had found that untouched spot.

Some of the conversation around them showed nerves frayed by fatigue, but the air of grateful relaxation was contagious. Lady Janet seemed to be enjoying passing around the garlic bread. Alex wondered if it was an excuse to check out the eligible men, now that Leigh had been killed out. She curtsied saucily in front of him, smile a touch too predatory for his taste. "Hot bread, m'lord," she said in her sexiest voice. "Sweeter than a virgin's kiss."